Redeeming Love
by EugeniaVictoria
Summary: As Ashley's darkest secret is revealed, Scarlett reaches a crossroads. Will she carve out a new path for herself, embracing true love, or lose everything? AUTHOR'S NOTE 25 June: I'm working on my bachelor thesis and a couple of other papers that need to be finished this summer, which means I won't be able to update this story anytime soon. Will be back around October!
1. Revelation

_**"False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu. Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew." Sir Walter Raleigh**_

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><p><strong>1. Revelation<strong>

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><p><strong>April 1871<strong>

He knew it was highly improper. He knew that honour and reason demanded of him to turn back.

But he could not.

The first time he'd done it, he had hated himself so much he'd had to relieve himself on his way home by heaving up the meagre content of his stomach. He'd felt cheap, and tried desperately to forget what shame he had brought upon himself, and, in a way, on his own wife and every one else he held dear. They thought of him as an honourable man, bound to principle and virtue, and would not deem him capable of such heinous actions.

Still, even worse than what others might think of him was his own self-loathing. He had always considered himself a decent person who respected and cherished public morals that were binding for all. But surely, after such a transgression, he must revoke his good opinion of himself. He was no good. He had spat on all virtue by performing acts a true gentleman should refrain from at all costs.

But it was done now, and his honour, the one thing he'd always put before everything else, was lost. Utterly lost, he knew that to be true. He was no better than any other man. He was no better than that Butler reprobate. If only he had not given in to his desires. If he'd only refused to yield to his body's commands, his honour would still be intact and he would not have to liken himself to a man such as that bastard, who used and discarded women at a whim, caring only for his own selfish demands. A man who betrayed his wife by consorting with females of ill repute.

It was done now.

He, Ashley Wilkes, had abandoned all morality and set foot in a bordello. That first night, the sound of his footsteps ebbing away in the corridor as he followed his "girl" to her room, he knew he'd sold his soul to the devil. That was two months ago. Ever since that night, which had opened his eyes to a world of sin and depravity, he had been living in fear of being discovered.

Unfortunately, that had not kept him from coming back.

The thrill was too great, the deed itself too intoxicatingly immoral. He loathed himself fiercely for entertaining such thoughts but he did not know what to do to stop them from invading his traitorous mind. During the day he would think of it, fearful that his expression might give him away. At night, lying next to his unsuspecting wife, he would conjure up images of previous encounters with the whores he consorted with, and it filled him with such desire that sleep eluded him for hours.

To Ashley, who had never considered himself a fleshly person, easily ruled by carnal lusts, it was utterly humiliating to admit that he could not defy the basic cravings of his body. And yet, there it was, a piercing ache that tortured him, never leaving him in peace. Physical intimacy had been absent from his life and marriage for so long, for the sake of Melanie's health, that his body was simply not willing to comply with his views of proper behaviour anymore. That first time he'd stepped into Belle's, he felt that if he did not find release immediately, he would go mad, and so one thing had led to another.

He could not comfort himself with the knowledge that most men craved sexual intercourse on a regular basis, that they needed it to quench the ever-present desire. He'd always strived to be different, a man of honour, and now he was one of _them_. It was completely disenchanting.

Striding through the darkness now, knowing his way by heart, the thought of his moral downfall was as unnerving as ever, and, as always on his nightly campaigns, he felt watched, as if the whole town knew of his misconduct. Should people ever learn, God forbid, he would be ruined. He had grown up within these social bounds of Southern chivalry, knew the unwritten rules and regulations of this society inside out. And although he was sure that other men of his circle occasionally went to brothels, it was not something a gentleman would be proud of or that people would openly talk about. In any case, his friends and family would despise him for consulting with the likes of Belle Watling and betraying Melanie, the best wife any man ever had.

It tortured him to imagine Melanie's face as they told her of her husband's betrayal, the pain in her eyes as her good opinion of him crumbled into dust. The thought was too painful to be borne.

_But you have to think about it, coward!_ A voice inside his head whispered. _Look what you're doing to her! If she finds out, it will break her heart.  
><em>

She was too good, too kind to understand any of it - she would probably defend him in the beginning, unwilling to believe in idle gossip. And yet he knew her subtle strength well enough to know that, eventually, she would come to hate him for it. It would hurt her so much to know that the one she loved most would do something so evil to her.

_But I'm not doing it to hurt her..._

That was the furthest thing from his mind. Melanie was the purest and goodliest person he knew, a woman worthy of the greatest love and respect. She was a loving soul, who had never seen darkness, and before the striking evil of his misdeeds she would surely recoil in disgust and anguish. Worst of all was knowing that she had only ever loved and supported him, and he was trampling with his feet on her endless trust and devotion. He was a bastard.

Ashley shook his head in self-hatred as he scanned the streets for nightly strollers. Most nights, such as now, the streets were virtually deserted. That made it easier to reach his destination, and he would not have to hide behind a tree or around a corner to prevent the unthinkable. It occurred to him that taking a walk in the middle of the night was not necessarily a wicked thing, but still, it might make people suspicious. Sometimes, though, it seemed to him as if all of Atlanta was flocking around the streets. It was humiliating to hide himself from view, but what could he do? He preferred hating himself for acting like a scared little boy to being discovered and publicly shunned.

As usual, the closer he got to Belle's the more careful he became, even as his anxiety reached unknown heights.

It was not the sight of the brothel itself that made him shiver. He had gotten used to its gaudy exterior as it glittered there in the darkness. He had learned to live with the noise that welcomed him each night - the moaning, the screaming, the guffawing laughter of drunk men. He had even gotten used to Belle Watling's scrutiny as she welcomed him through the back door to hide him from unwelcome eyes. He did not know how she managed not to strangle him for doing this to Melanie – he knew her to have a very high opinion of his wife. Sometimes he wished she would berate him for it. But she never did. The first time he'd tried to explain himself, shamefacedly, she had interrupted him by saying, "It's not my business, Mist' Wilkes," her tone all business, but the disapproving look she'd bestowed on him had told him all he needed to know.

As he rounded the last corner, the big townhouse came into view and the familiar noises made their way to his ears. Ashley sighed and prepared himself for the always peculiar task of getting to the back door without being noticed by any of the people looking out of the big glass windows or those performing unholy acts outside. He was nervous.

It was as if he could hear the pounding of his own heart.

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><p>With a thud, Scarlett closed the big leather book she used to keep track of the sales and expenses of the mills.<p>

Financially, it could not have gone better. She was a wealthy woman and it was purely of her own making. There was not a day that she checked the ledger and did not feel proud of her achievements. This was what she excelled in, and the numbers proved her right in every aspect.

She smiled a satisfied smile. Seeing how her business flourished, she could not care less that no one in Atlanta appreciated what she did.

_Let them grumble, _she thought defiantly. _What are they but a pack of jealous fools? _

Stretching her arms, Scarlett looked around.

Two hours ago, she had locked herself in her room (she'd been doing so for almost two years now) to work on the ledger. Now that she was done, she sighed, satisfied with herself. No matter how late it was, no matter how garishly the lamp gleamed there on her desk, she felt relaxed. Working with numbers always put her strangely at ease. It took her mind off of other, unpleasant things.

Abandoning her desk, Scarlett walked over to close the great window that led out to the balcony. But, as she breathed in the still pleasantly warm air of the April night, she stepped outside. It was comforting to be out here. She took in the view of the property's enormous garden, at least as far as she could see in the dark, and enjoyed the soft breeze grazing her skin. Closing her eyes, she sighed again. She felt like staying here for the night, in the open. Looking at the night sky, she knew she wasn't ready to go to bed yet.

Out of the blue, the incredulous idea of going for a walk came to her mind. But no – she couldn't do that. It was not done, the danger was too great. No lady would venture outside at this time of the night, alone. But she was not like other women, and right now the idea of crossing deserted streets, with no one there to scrutinize or disturb her, was soothing. She did not fear the dark, nor the solitude.

Annoyingly, she had to think of Rhett and what he would think of it. She figured he would be against her walking through Atlanta at night, all by herself. If he were here right now, he would probably try to persuade her to stay, and then, when she refused to listen to his remarks, he would tease her for entertaining such peculiar notions, telling her that no proper lady would wish to go strolling right now. He would mock her and she would be furious, but strangely taken in by that curious smile of his. Perhaps he would make her laugh...

Perhaps he would not.

Scarlett shook her head as if to block out the thought of him. She did not even know why she had to think of him in the first place. It was not that she set great store by his opinion, was it? Then why did the image of him creep into her mind like some kind of poison, a poison for which there was no antidote...? And why, in the name of God, did she care what he would think? Over the past two years, he had certainly not given her the impression that he gave a damn what she did, where she went, or what was going on in her head.

She was getting irritated with the way her mind seemed to be working and turned away from the dark night, shutting the window behind her. Her decision was made.

She was already in her nightgown and wrapper, as she had undressed and dismissed Mammy about two and a half hours ago. Quickly, she changed into a dark blue, almost painfully simple dress – she hardly ever wore it but she wanted to avoid being seen, and it was the easiest gown to get into on her own. Grabbing her hat and gloves, she tiptoed down the hall and the great staircase.

She carried her shoes in order to make no noise that might wake the servants, or the children for that matter. Rhett had not returned home yet, and she was glad. Facing him these days was a constant vexation, and before the blandness of his face, void of the mocking humour of old, she did not know what to do. Where he was she did not exactly know, although in a dark place of her heart she thought she knew. Strange, that she should be unwilling to further explore this place and put her suspicions into words, as if ... as if...

No, she wouldn't think about that right now. She would think about it tomorrow. With an effort, she pushed Rhett out of her mind.

Quietly, not daring to breathe, she opened and closed the great front door as carefully as she could, then sat down on the steps and put on her shoes. It was absurdly exciting to flee from one's own house, and she stifled a giggle.

Finally, she left the premises and began to walk down Peachtree Street in the direction of the town centre. Scarlett breathed in the warm air and congratulated herself on her good idea. It was beautiful out here, and she marvelled at the emptiness of the street. But then again, maybe it was better that way. If anyone saw her, she'd be the talk of the town for days.

_Wouldn't be a first,_ she thought drily. Thank God the old pea hens were all behind locked doors, so that she, Scarlett, could enjoy her stroll in peace.

She walked in silence, enjoying the exercise, the way it eased her limbs after hours of sitting at her desk. It felt marvellous. The trees lining the sidewalk swayed gently in the soft breeze. Scarlett skipped a little, forgetting herself completely for a few blissful moments.

The pleasant mood remained until she passed Aunt Pitty's house.

Seeing it, her face fell. A great longing took hold of her.

It was not the house itself that made her enthusiasm vanish, though, or the thought of the old lady dwelling in it.

It was the house behind Pitty's that triggered these emotions in her. She could not see it, but she knew by heart the way to get there: across Pitty's little garden, through an opening in the hedge, and there it was, a simple and flat little building, not at all to Scarlett's taste.

And yet it was dear to her, for Ashley was lying there right now, sleeping peacefully, she hoped. She would not disturb his slumber for the world, but, like a selfish child, she wished she could enter his house right now, push Melanie out of the bed and lay down beside him, and they would sleep together, hands entwined, shutting themselves away from the world outside. It would be just the two of them.

The notion was so beautiful that she simply stood there for a while, gazing into space.

Sometimes she was in danger of losing hope that she'd ever be with him in that way. Always, always, Melanie was there, restraining him, and Scarlett knew by now that Ashley was too honourable to leave his wife for her. But whenever that treacherous thought came up to torture her, she would reassure herself of their love for each other, and it would give her the strength to face reality every day. This whole world was only endurable because Ashley was in it, warming her with his love. A love that was the only pure thing in her life, the only link to the girlhood she had lost, and therefore she treasured it above everything else she possessed.

Her love for him was as strong as ever, although, over the years, she had learned to curb her emotions when it came to him, to hide her feelings under a layer of false restraint. Knowing that they were both true to each other, not only with their hearts but also their bodies, made her happy. She knew he did not share his bed with Melanie, and as for Rhett and herself… well. She'd put an end to that after Bonnie's birth. And although she'd missed his absence from her room at first, the talking, sometimes his mere presence, it had become easier in time, and after a while she had been able to convince herself that she had closed that chapter completely.

And anyway, Ashley's love was ample compensation for her pains. Every time she saw him at the mills, she rejoiced. He was as dear to her as he'd been in those days at Tara, so long ago. She could not let go of him and this love she knew they had for each other, and she never would. It was the milk that nurtured her.

She was nearing the town centre now. There was no one to be seen. She imagined the streets in broad daylight, herself in a beautiful dress, her arm linked with Ashley's. They were smiling, chatting idly. If only he'd never married Melanie. If only things had been different, they might have been together for a long time now. Years. All lost.

_Oh for goodness' sake_, she thought, annoyed. _I sound like a sentimental fool._

Maybe there was still a chance...

She decided that she would double her efforts to be kind to him, to try to grasp the workings of his elusive mind. And although she had promised him she'd never throw herself at him again – and she did not plan to - she'd let him know she loved him in a subtle manner. It had to work. It would work! She would do everything she could to make him approve of her, and perhaps one day in the near future he'd realize that he belonged with her, not Melanie. He loved her, and if she convinced him of her undying support then... then he'd surely reconsider. They could run away together! She'd do anything for him... and she had plenty of money to provide for them. That it might bother him to be maintained by a woman, she did not think about. She did not think of anything but succeeding in winning him over.

There was nothing she could not achieve if she truly set her mind to it.

As for Rhett and Melanie, they'd deal with them later. She knew, cruel though it was, that she'd leave Rhett, and the children, and everything else - the mills, Atlanta, even the South, behind, in order to be with Ashley. He had told her he would not abandon Melanie, but he did not know what he was talking about. They could leave her money… everything would fall into place somehow, she was sure of it. It was just that Ashley was too honourable and good to admit that he, too, was sick of it all sometimes and wanted to run away.

She'd been so caught up in her dreams of their future together that she'd lost track of where she had been going.

She had crossed Five Points a while ago, she remembered. Now she found herself in a dark alley that did not strike a chord of recognition.

Looking around, she grew a little anxious. Why did she not know this place? She'd presumed she knew Atlanta like the back of her hand. She moved forward, down the alley. It was paved but not in a good state. Apparently, it had not been cleaned for ages.

To her ears, the impact of her heels on the ground seemed louder than before. Her surroundings were eerily still, so still it almost frightened her. She was about to turn around and run back to where she'd come from, wherever that was, when she heard a noise. She perceived the loud laughter of a man, then the giggling of a woman. Something fell to the ground and burst into pieces.

Intrigued in spite of herself, she proceeded. When she came to the spot where the glass had fallen down, the pair was gone. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of the hem of the woman's dress as she walked around a corner about 50 metres away. Scarlett felt a strange ecstasy rush through her. It was exhilarating to walk the streets alone at night, to follow strangers and spy on them. The fear she'd felt before was slowly receding to the back of her mind.

She crossed a street and walked down the next pitch black alley as noiselessly as she could. She found herself nearing the said corner when she realized with a start where she was. Why had she not noticed earlier? This part of town was hardly known to her because it was no place for a decent woman, or a decent man, for that matter.

Round that corner, and she'd face Belle Watling's brothel.

Hatred and disgust welled up inside of her. She hated that woman. She loathed and despised her with all that was in her. It did not matter that she was a lady (she was!), and Belle Watling an illitereate whore, and they lived in two completely different worlds. Something about that woman made her blood boil.

When had she started hating her again? Ever since… well, to be honest, ever since that day she'd found out that Rhett was consorting with that woman. Belle had given Melanie money for the hospital, wrapped in Rhett's handkerchief. Scarlett still remembered seeing his inititals, _R.K.B._, embroidered on the white cloth, and the pang of rage and hurt pride it brought. Yes, she'd always hated Belle and thinking of her alone made her furious - but why that should be she did not know.

Clenching her fist in impotent anger, she was about to turn around and leave, when something bright caught her eye in the darkness.

She moved forward and realized it was a man. She squinted against the dark, tying to see if she knew him. It would be too comic to catch one of Atlanta's respected citizens near Belle Watling's house. She stood stock still, avoiding all noise, not daring to breathe for fear the man would turn around and see her. All she could make out in the darkness was that he was wearing a suit of a dark colour, probably brown. He was very blonde, and the faint moon cast a silvery glow upon his hair. She could not see the exact contours of his tall body: it was too dark, the neighbourhood being scantily illuminated.

It was clear to hear he was waiting for something, probably the right time to get to Belle's house unseen. She suppressed another giggle. Why, apparently he didn't dare step out of this alley to reach the place. Men were such fools sometimes. They consorted with bad women but were too gutless to admit it to anyone. Wasn't that double treachery?

There seemed to be some commotion in front of Belle's. A few people were shouting and laughing. Scarlett could imagine what they were doing. Sacrilegious, vulgar, extremely interesting things…

_Stop it,_ she though angrily.

She did not dare shake her head, as if fearing the movement would stir up a breeze that might reach the stranger. The man was still waiting. It amazed Scarlett that he did not sense her presence only ten or fifteen metres behind him, but he was probably too tense to notice, she figured.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the stillest minutes of Scarlett's life, the noise died down and the man seemed to take heart. It was then that, even as a the light of the half-seemed to be growing stronger for a few fleeting seconds, illuminating the corner for but a moment, he turned his head and his profile was visible in the silver light.

Scarlett's eyes flew open, her hand to her mouth in order to trap the piercing scream that was forming in her throat.

_No._

_No,_ her mind reeled, _no, no, no, no, no. No, it cannot be! It CANNOT be!_

But as she looked at him again, she knew it to be true.

It was Ashley Wilkes.

Ashley.

Her Ashley.

She was afraid she'd fall to the ground and lose consciousness. It shocked her so much she could hardly breathe. She could not conjure up one single rational thought - it was as if her brain was hammering against the walls of her scalp. She shook her head in defiance, her nails digging into her cheeks till it hurt.

It could not be true and yet it was real, right there before her very eyes. A cold hand of ice gripped her heart and gave it a squeeze, mocking her, casting a chill on her entire body. She was frozen in place.

Her hand was still on her mouth, her eyes still wide, when Ashley finally made a move and dashed around the corner like a hunted deer fearing the onslaught. Scarlett, unable to hold herself in any longer, reached for the cool wall of the house to her left and sank to the ground.

She did not know how long she sat there, probably just a minute, when a voice inside her urged her to reassure herself of what she had seen.

Perhaps, she tried to make herself believe, perhaps he's lost, as I am! He lost his way and was just anxious not to be seen!_ Then why did he not turn around and leave_, a voice inside her intoned. _Why did he seem so hesitant, so frightened of being caught?_

_I don't know, I don't know!_ she screamed back in her mind, unwilling to believe yet unable to block out what was so obvious.

But she had to make sure. This was Ashley, not just some random person. This was the man she'd thought she knew so well, the one she was supposed to love!

She heaved herself to her feet and ran to the end of the alley. If he was gone, she'd never know for sure, and that would kill her.

There! She saw a last glimpse of his hair as he walked round the house. On impulse, she followed him. There was no one to be seen, and she could not think straight. Her body moved without her having any control over it. All she knew was that she had to find out if he was truly going into that house, and if he was, then… she did not know.

She ran faster to avoid losing him and then she saw him again. Terrified he'd turn around and spot her, she pressed herself as closely to the wall of the house as she could, hiding in the dark shadows. She was starting to sweat, so great was the tension. Bewildered, she watched as he raised his hand and knocked at the backdoor. She did not move. There were footsteps, then the creaking of the door as it was being opened from the inside. Belle Watling's guttural drawl rang out to her ears, and it pained her so much she clenched her right fist and put it into her mouth, her bosom rising and falling with murderous rage.

"Good evening Mist' Wilkes. How lovely to see ya!" Belle mocked. "Beautiful night, ain't it?"

Ashley, after muttering a barely audible "Good evening", said nothing.

Scarlett willed him to say something, anything, so she could stop thinking about what all of this meant. Here he was, talking to Belle Watling, the madam of Atlanta's most notorious brothel. Her Ashley, sweet, honourable Ashley. It was a thought too monstrous to be borne, but it was real. The last thread of denial inside her let her hope that he would not enter this place, but it was dashed a moment later when Belle said impatiently, "Well come on in, mister! I don't have all day to stand here and talk to ya! Your little tidbit is waiting for ya. Same room as always."

This last piece of information almost broke Scarlett's reserve, but she held back and watched in horror as Ashley stepped over the threshold and entered the house. Belle slammed the door shut with a bang.

Years later, she would never remember how she mustered up the strength to drag herself away from that place. She felt drained of all energy, spiritless, utterly disbelieving, and yet so terribly aware.

Before her very eyes she had seen the man she had loved for years walk into a brothel, heard that he did so regularly, saw him squirm and yet not yield under the eyes of that whore. Scarlett pressed her lips together as she staggered through the night, willing the tears away. It was too much. Why did he have to do that? How could he hurt her so? How could he betray their love?

She tasted the salt of her own tears, and it broke her resolve. She had not cried like this since she did not know when, but she let it flow. She let the tears flow, and flow they did as her fool's paradise crumbled into dust.

It was a physical ache, to know that he did not honour their agreement of being faithful to each other, both physically and emotionally. In fact, he had kicked it with his feet and not given a damn about the consequences. She could not even fool herself by pretending that it was a one-shot. He'd done it before! He and his little "tidbit", she thought jeeringly.

_The world is full of beds, _she heard a voice mock her.

_… and most of the beds are full of women…_

Rhett's words rang true, now that she had seen the man she'd loved since her childhood and always thought of as honourable and honest, enter a whore house. What drove him to do it, and how he reconciled it with his conscience, she did not know, and she did not really care. She only knew that he had betrayed her trust.

And it was not just the fact that he'd gone to such a place to… sleep with other women, breaking the delicate promise of chastity they had wordlessly given one another after Bonnie's birth, or at least so she had supposed it to be. Worse than this was the knowledge that, apparently, she did not know him at all, she, who had believed for such a long time that she came first in his heart, that they were made for each other.

This episode proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that that was not true. Had never been true. This knowledge stung. It hurt her pride and laid bare before her the naivity she had been prone to for so many years when it came to Ashley.

The sad, undeniable fact was that if he truly loved her, he wouldn't have done this. If he truly cared for her, he would never even have considered doing this. The truth hit her hard, and, had she been in her right mind, she would have fought it with all her might. But she was not in her right mind - she felt hopeless and confused.

_I've fooled myself about him, my love, about Ashley,_ she achingly realised as she continued walking through the night. It was as if the tears of disappointment and hurt pride would burn her skin, and she almost wished they would. She longed to feel something else, anything but this terrible blend of anger, hurt, and bitter disappointment. Not in the darkest hours of her life had she felt like this, not ever.

She had believed in something that had never truly existed, had built a big castle of dreams, and tonight its foundations had been shattered. With all her heart she wished to convince herself of the contrary, but it was not possible.

Before the evidence of Ashley's betrayal, she could not shut her eyes. Her rational mind would not allow it.

He had betrayed her, forsaken their so-called love, and left her bereft, weary, like a child lost in a dark and all-consuming nightmare.


	2. Reflection

**_"Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest:_**

**_Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers:_**

**_Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest,_**

**_And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers!"_**

**_William S. Gilbert_**

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><p><strong>2. Reflection<br>**

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><p>Belle Watling sat down in a chair by the fire in her own large chamber, thinking of the man she had just taken to the room where he would be spending the night with his favourite girl.<p>

She had her reasons for not blowing Ashley Wilkes' cover.

First of all, she was fond of him. A woman of her profession was naturally careful around men, ever wondering whom she could really trust. But she felt like one could trust this man, with his impeccable manners and the stiff politeness that seemed so out of place in this house. He did not strike her as dangerous or evil; quite the contrary: lost he seemed to her, shocked at himself for doing these things no gentleman of his breed should even consider, and yet unable to fight his most intimate needs.

Secondly, no matter how much she liked him, the thought that this was the man whom Scarlett O'Hara professed to be madly in love with gave her a wicked pleasure.

Rhett had told her numerous times that Scarlett loved Ashley Wilkes, or at least convinced herself that it was so, and, in an effort to be physically faithful to the man, had banished her own husband from her room and her bed in the coldest manner imaginable. Belle secretly delighted in knowing that she was the one aiding Ashley in acting out his carnal desires, something that, if she knew, would surely hurt and offend Scarlett. Yes, that woman's foolish fantasy of chastity and love would crumble into dust, if she only learned what her precious Ashley was up to.

Belle sighed, marvelling not for the first time at the vehemence of her hatred for Rhett's wife. It came from a dark and secret place in her heart, a place that had been yearning for years for the love a man who would never be hers, could never be hers. A man who was beyond perfect in her humble opinion, a man who could make her happy – but he didn't want her.

Oh, he'd had her body before, and she'd never done anything but rejoice in the touch of his talented hands. How any woman could voluntarily deny herself the pleasure of his lovemaking was beyond her. Scarlett was a fool.

Belle laughed mirthlessly to herself. Yes, she had been with Rhett in the most intimate way; he knew her body and she knew his...

But he did not love her.

Before Scarlett came into the picture, Belle had secretly hoped and prayed that she and Rhett would be together one day. She'd always known they had little in common and came from completely different beginnings, lived in different worlds. But there was a great understanding between them, a feeling of ease and companionship that can only exist between two who are akin in some way.

But, ever since he'd fallen in love with Scarlett, she had known that she would have to bury her hopes and face reality. She would never be with Rhett.

He loved Scarlett with a passion, and that was the reason why the galling feeling inside Belle's heart had never truly abated over the years. She begrudged Scarlett this deep love that seemed to survive against all odds, a love she herself craved above all things. She hated her for throwing away happiness carelessly and chasing after another man even as she held Rhett's heart in her palm. To Belle, Scarlett was the most selfish and cruel woman she had ever known, a woman who never did anything but hurt and reject the husband who adored and worshipped her, even if only in secret.

He'd told Belle that Scarlett had no idea how much he loved her, and that it was better this way because, if she knew, she'd use it against him and hold it like a whip over his head. This only made Belle hate the other woman more, for what female would so selfishly use the love of a man against him?

_"You're both hard-headed business women, and you're both succesful,"_ Rhett had told her once. _"But you have a heart, Belle. And you are honest."_

She snorted slightly, unwilling to believe that she had anything in common with that woman, and glad that Rhett seemed to think her more genuine than his selfish wife. In her opinion, Scarlett was a terrible person, and she would have loved to shout in her arrogant face that her honourable Ashley was a regular guest at her establishment.

But she could not do that.

The third and most important reason why she did not wish to give Mr. Wilkes away, was the fact that it would bitterly hurt a woman of whom Belle thought and spoke in nothing but the highest terms. Ever since Melanie Wilkes had accepted her money in front the hospital, years ago, Belle had liked her, and the feeling had only intensified over the years, especially in the aftermath of Mr. Wilkes and the other men's arrest for the Shantytown raid. Melanie had thanked her for her help, even promising to greet her in public - an offer Belle had turned down - whereas the other so-called ladies continued to cut and ignore her to this day although she'd saved all of their husbands' lives.

In Belle's opinion, Melanie Wilkes was goodness and kindness personified, and she could not stand the thought of seeing her hurt. She did not appreciate what Mr. Wilkes was doing, but she would never say a word to his wife.

Also, she had learned from Rhett – who seemed to know quite a lot about the Wilkes' private life – that the pair had not shared a bed for years, for fear that Melanie might get pregnant and die in the process. No matter how inappropriate Ashley's betrayal was, no matter the depth of his depravity, Belle could sort of understand what drove him to come here. Being a fleshly person herself, she could not imagine living without sex for years and years, the mind shrivelling even as the intimate parts of your body yearned to be touched. And for a man it was even harder to suppress the desire, the physical ache.

Yes, she could relate with his actions, even if she did not appreciate them. And she would be damned before she ever said a word to anyone.

The thought of what Rhett would think if he knew had crossed her mind many times. She had not told him, partly because it was her own damn business whom she admitted into her own house, and partly because she was afraid of what he would do. If he went wild and beat the man up, perhaps someone would learn of Ashley's presence in the house, and then the news would surely reach Mrs. Wilkes. Nothing ever stayed behind closed doors for long in this gossipy town.

And perhaps, if he knew about it, he'd tell his wife and the little fool would finally come to her senses and love him back. He would probably indulge Scarlett's every whim, and if she asked him to stay with her, Belle would never see him in this house again. She could not bare the thought of that happening.

No, for now, it was best to leave things as they were.

Belle sighed and reached for a glass of brandy standing on a small table next to her chair. She would serve no more customers tonight and she was tired. Tenderly, she stroked the rim of the glass, breathing in the harsh, bitter smell of the brown liquid, eagerly anticipating its familiar taste as it burned down her throat.

She raised the glass to her lips and was about to drink, when a loud cry from the hallway startled her.

Closing her eyes involuntarily, she let out a deep breath, recognizing the angry voice that shouted her name the moment it reached her ears.

It was Rhett Butler's, and he did not sound pleased at all.

* * *

><p><em>He heard her voice, sharp, mocking, cutting into his soul like a knife through flesh.<br>_

_"You're such a fool, Rhett Butler... Don't you know I'll always love another man?"_

_Damn her. He wanted to shout at her, berate her for her inability to see the truth, her ignorance and coldness. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came forth. He couldn't speak, so he simply stood there, transfixed, looking at her face.  
><em>

_"What? Did you really think you could win me over?" _

_I don't know what I was thinking, he thought as he gazed into those gorgeous eyes that held no love for him. His anger abated, leaving only frustration and a queer, unwelcome rush of longing. Even when she insulted him he couldn't shake off his need for her. God, he was pathetic. _

_Sensing his weakness, she laughed jeeringly at him. He couldn't stand it, but for some reason he couldn't walk away either. Hell, he could never walk away for long from this amazing woman. _

_There was something akin to idolatry in his eyes, but she didn't care. Her brows flew swiftly together in a scowl, the green feline eyes burning with hatred.  
><em>

_"I hate you, I'll hate you till my dying day..." _

He groaned as he awoke from his drunken slumber, Scarlett's nightmarish voice still echoing in his muddled brain.

She always did this, haunting him even in his sleep. These days he envied those who dreamt of peace and quiet, of cherished memories. Sweet dreams must be a beautiful thing - but his dreams were of different kind.

Lifting his head and taking in his surroundings, Rhett let out a deep sigh.

He was lying on a great bed in a large and beautifully designed chamber everyone referred to as "his room". Indeed, this was where he spent most of his nights at the "Girl for all Seasons", after hours of drinking and gambling in the bar downstairs. It was his own personal refuge, a room furnitured and accessorized according to his personal tastes. The walls were of a dark cream color, the large windows draped with long elegant curtains of an airy quality. On the carpeted floor, heavy furniture had been arranged: two big armchairs, a setee, a mahagony table, a cabinet filled with the finest liquors available. Several lamps and a tasteful chandelier radiated a warm light that usually comforted him, but right now it seemed to be burning into his eyeballs like fire. He wanted darkness.

With an effort he got up from the bed and slowly dragged himself to the table. Upon it stood a whisky bottle like a buoy in a sea of scattered glasses, corks, and cigar butts. Despite his splitting headache, he grabbed one of the glasses and poured himself a drink before sinking into one of the cushioned armchairs. The alcohol running soothingly down his throat, he lifted his tired eyes to the clock on the wall which revealed to him that it was long past midnight. He must have had a little too much and passed out on the bed a few hours ago. This was nothing new. In fact, it was as trivial as one's morning toilet.

He laughed mirthlessly to himself and knocked back the rest of his drink. Of the night he did not recall much, but it was not necessary. It was always the same these days.

When Bonnie was savely in bed, he would leave that horror of a house on Peachtree Street and flee to this room, his sanctuary. For a sanctuary it was: here he'd slept many nights already, ever since Belle had opened up her establishment, financed by Rhett's own ill-gotten gains. Nothing was holy here, or mandatory, and he enjoyed that immensely. He could drink like a fish, bed a dozen whores, and no one would even look twice. After all, most people who came to Belle's did not have an ounce of honour left in their bodies.

He laughed again, and it sounded hollow to his ears.

_Honour_, he mused.

He had no honour, at least not the kind of honour other men strived for. True, since Bonnie's birth he had kept up a pretence of decency, going to the bank most days of the week and meeting with members of the Old Guard to discuss politics and other affairs that were trivial to him, but important to them. And yet, deep down he was not, had never been, and would never be a conformable member of society, cherishing the rules other people so dilegently adhered to. In fact, his false modesty these days, meaning the show he put on during the day, was nothing but a farce, although he could not deny that respectability, or at least a resemblance of it, came with a strange feeling of ease. He wanted to secure Bonnie's future, make up for the mistakes Scarlett had made.

Bonnie. There was nothing he would not do for his little princess.

The thought of her made him smile, unsuitable though it was to think of such a pure and innocent soul in a place like this. Even in his drunken state, he felt happiness momentarily overwhelm him as he envisioned her before his mind's eye: rosebud mouth, dark shiny locks, so adorable in her chubbiness, so entirely sure of herself. His darling little girl. Without her there would be no light, no hope in his life that had been spiralling downwards ever since... Well, since when, exactly?

Rhett snorted. _As if you didn't know. _

He gulped down another drink and licked his parched lips. There was a reason why he was here, night after night, drinking himself into oblivion and bedding whores who brought him physical relief but could never ease the pain inside him.

Because _she_ didn't want him.

She had banished him from her room, foolishly persuading herself that she needed to be faithful to her precious Ashley, and he hated her for it. Hated her because she did not need him as he needed her, want him as he wanted her. Hated her for not loving him as loved her - ardently, completely. And, in the aftermath of her rejection, he had found comfort elsewhere - or so he had supposed it to be.

For he was beginning to realise that there was no true comfort here, no matter what he did. Belle was a trusted friend and did what she could to cheer him up. The company in the bar and at the parties upstairs was good, the girls were pleasant. But it was not enough. Nothing was ever enough to block out the image of_ her. _

_Good God, man, listen to yourself, _he thought, knocking over a glass as he reached for the decanter once more. He sounded like a damned sissy.

Wanting a smoke, he searched the table for his cigar case, but could not find it. He wondered senselessly at the sea of cigar butts on the table, and how they came there if he hadn't brought the case with him to the room. He searched his brain for memories of the evening and night. Finally, he remembered a few fragments.

They'd played cards downstairs, himself and a couple of other men, mostly Yankees. He recalled talking to Hank, a high-ranking official with a boisterous laugh.

He had already parted the man from a good deal of cash, when Hank finally gave in, letting out a guffaw and expressing the desire to disappear to the upper floor with his girl this very instant. In his memory, Rhett saw himself taking a few cigars from his case before handing it over to the man for no apparent reason.

_"Here, Hank, my lad,"_ he heard himself slur,_ "take this. A fine young officer like you should never be without some good old Havana cigars!"_

He thrust it into his chubby hand. The man protested half-heartedly, making Rhett grin.

_"Take it, I say..."_

The rest of the scene was blurred, but, as far as he remembered, Hank had eventually accepted the case and slapped his shoulder before wandering off with a girl named Polly in his arm. Rhett had no idea why he'd given the cigar case to him, but he had had so many drinks by then that he'd probably not been thinking straight anymore.

He sighed, annoyed at himself. He needed a smoke badly, needed the familiar taste and smell to soothe his nerves. There was no other way but to find Hank and extract the precious commodity from him.

He struggled to his feet, swaying a little as he did so, and grabbed the table for support. His head was throbbing with pain, his eyes were sore and his hands feeble, but he did not give a damn. He almost welcomed it. It set his mind strangely at ease to know that although his heart and soul rebelled against him, he could do with his body as he pleased. And if he ruined it in the process, then so be it. After all, what's in a body? He remembered telling Scarlett that bodies were not worth much, especially women's bodies...

He was a fucking bastard.

Turning away from the table, he made his way to the door. He was not staggering, for even in this muddled state of drunkenness he somehow managed to control his limbs and move steadily, albeit not as gracefully as usual. He was an expert at it, and few people had ever seen him lose this amazing control he seemed to have over his body even when completely intoxicated.

For all that he was sporting a headache, Rhett did not feel like lying down anytime soon, although he was weary of the long night and would have liked to rest. But, since he knew that sleep would elude him as it did so often these days, he was determined to find Hank and enjoy a cigar in peace before his treacherous mind would inevitably be drawn back to Scarlett. And he did not want to think of her right now, not yet.

He opened the door that led into the long, dimly lit hallway on the house's second floor. He briefly looked at the door to Belle's room, which was conveniently situated across from his own, but he didn't want to bother her with his concerns right now. She was probably enjoying her nightcap after a strenuous day and deserved to be left alone for a few precious hours.

The usual blend of noises greeted him as he took in his surroundings. A girl gave a shriek in one of the rooms down the hall, a man groaned with pleasure in another. Rhett was pondering the question where to start looking for Hank, when a door not far away opened with a crunch and someone tumbled drunkenly out of a room. The man halted for a moment, looking around with glazed eyes, and Rhett noticed with some surprise that it was the one he was looking for.

"Butler, awl' chap!" Hank exclaimed as he recognized him, coming closer on unsteady feet. "How ah ya?" He added in his peculiar Boston brogue.

"Hank," Rhett nodded good-naturedly, amused at the man's condition. "This is a lucky coincidence. I was just looking for you."

"Doan go tryin' to chat me up, boyo," Hank grinned. "I've had enough of lovin' ova theah just now..." He trailed off, grinning wolfishly.

"Good one?" Rhett quipped.

"Ya huh! Wicked good," Hank declared, seemingly satisfied with himself and the world. "Anyway... what did ya want from me?"

"I'm missing my cigar case, the one I gave you downstairs. Remember?"

"Cigar case..." Hank mumbled, searching his head for answers. "Right! The gold one."

"Exactly. Listen, Hank, I don't have all day," Rhett threw in. He needed a smoke. Now. "Where is it?"

"Phew... I think I gave it to Polly jus' now," Hank slurred.

"And where is Polly?" Rhett asked. He knew the girl well; she was Hank's favorite and Rhett was on good terms with her too... so to speak.

"Darn, full o' questions today, Butler, huh? Well, she left like ten minutes oah so befoah I came outta theah. Went to the last room on the left, with that new cock of hers," he added sourly, as if this last bit was not to his liking at all.

"A new one?" Rhett asked indifferently.

"Well, not that new, I'm guessin'," Hank reckoned. "Never really seen the fellow, guess he comes through the backdoor."

"I see," Rhett consented, eager to get his cigars. "Last room on the left, you said?"

"That's right," Hank nodded, waving his hand in the general direction of the door. "I think the fellow ain't theah yet, so ya can go in."

"Thank you, Hank. I'll see you." He slapped the man's shoulder, laughing when the officer stumbled backwards, and walked past him.

"Count on me," Hank babbled, and looking back over his shoulder Rhett could see him slowly retreating down the staircase that lead to the ground floor.

Still grinning, Rhett walked quietly down the dimly lit hallway until he had nearly reached the last room on the left side. The door stood slightly ajar; Polly had probably forgotten to close it behind herself.

He listened for a moment but could not hear anything suspicious. The girl seemed to be fumbling in a drawer, perhaps looking for a match, for the room was dark; no light could be seen through the crack of the door.

Rhett was about to call Polly's name, when he suddenly had an idea. It was nothing short of ridiculous, but he was drunk and didn't care. Why not get some fun out of this and surprise her? She was a playful one, always up for a joke. She'd find this amusing. He laughed inwardly. She was the kind of girl who actually had a sense of humour about such things. _Unlike certain others_, he thought wrily.

Carefully, he stepped forward, as still as a panther in his approach. He laid his hand upon the door, and then, suddenly, swiftly, threw it open just as Polly managed to light a giant wax candle on her drawer, and the room was bathed in a reddishly bright light.

"Boooo!" Rhett shouted foolishly, breaking out into loud laughter as she shrieked and jumped with fright.

Then he noticed that she was not alone.

His wide grin froze the instant he saw the person standing next to the great bed over which the stark naked Polly was sprawled.

The blond man stood transfixed, his arms dangling numbly. His pants lay in a heap at his feet, leaving him in nothing but his shirt and drawers. There was an expression of absolute and utter horror on his face as he stared at Rhett with wide, mortified eyes, as if he would gladly have died on the spot.

For a brief moment, Rhett's shock equalled his and he blinked as if to reassure himself that he was not going insane. Then, as he took in the scene before him, Polly's embarrassed but somewhat bemused countenance, and the _gentleman_ in dishabille, his face contorted and his body shook as if seized with cramps.

He started to laugh hysterically, grabbing the door handle for support.

It was _Ashley_.

There, caught with his pants down, next to the bed of a whore, stood Mr. Ashley Wilkes, the self-proclaimed embodiment of honour itself. And what a sight it was!

Amidst his laughter, Rhett looked up at the man to make sure that it was real, and the absurdity of the situation was not lost on him. Here he was, the reprobate, catching the honourable Mr. Wilkes as he was getting ready to bed a whore. Wilkes, the goddamn pussy Scarlett claimed to love, for whose love and promise of chastity she had denied him, Rhett, access to her bed and her body. The man who stood between him and everything.

It was too comical.

Finally, when the storm of his crazed laughter had abated, Rhett looked Ashley straight in the eye, and, seeing the fear in them, clicked his tongue in mock astonishment.

"My, my, what do we have here?" He drawled jeeringly, taking a step forward. "The honourable Mr. Wilkes, if I'm not mistaken..." He trailed off, looking pointedly at the man's exposed drawers.

Ashley's face turned bright-red. "I - "

"Rhett, please," Polly threw in, hastily throwing a wrapper around her shoulders. "It's not - "

Rhett silenced her with a wave of his hand, his eyes suddenly dark, dangerous.

There was something in their depths that both scared Ashley and riled him up, but he did not know what to say. This was the most humiliating moment in his entire life, and he was mortified, too stunned to speak. But, what was he to say anyway? _Should _he say anything? He felt helpless and exposed, literarily speaking. This must be a nightmare - he could not really be in this room, caught in the act by none other than that fiend, Rhett Butler.

He closed his eyes involuntarily, willing it all to be over, willing himself away... but, of course, Butler had other plans.

Rhett snorted in disgust at Ashley's fright. The man was obviously scared shitless, or at least too daft to come up with anything to say. How could Scarlett possibly love this poor excuse for a man? He didn't get it, would never get it, but the thought of Scarlett brought in its wake a sudden pang of mixed emotions: jealousy, hurt pride, and anger, the latter being prominent as he looked at Ashley.

"I'm not quite sure if I get this right," Rhett began, an edge to his voice. "You're the new one, or should I say "the new cock", as my friend Hank put it?" He asked with fake innocence, as if this was a regular question. A perverse pleasure stirred in him as Ashley's face twitched as if stung, his nostrils flaring indignantly at the vulgar title bestowed on him.

With a supreme effort, Ashley checked himself, curbing the wrath bubbling up inside him. He bent down swiftly and pulled up his pants, trying to ignore Butler's sneering glare.

"Sir," he said finally, "who are you to judge me?" He attempted a retort, finding that Butler had no right to hold this against him, being himself the greatest whoremonger imaginable. To his surprise, Rhett just laughed.

"That's the pot calling the kettle back, Wilkes," he jibed. "And may I remind you that, until Miss Watling has paid off her debts, I own this establishment. So you see," he grinned slightly, "you're finding yourself on my premises right now."

Butler's thick bass thundered through the room and into his ears, and Ashley did not know what to say.

It was true.

Technically, this was Rhett Butler's house. He had been hoping that the day of his unmasking would never come, that he'd never bump into this man here. He realized now that this encounter had been inevitable all along, that one day it would have happened anyway. The magnitude of his folly struck him, and he felt supid. How on earth had he convinced himself that his shameful conduct would go unnoticed?

He looked up at Rhett, and before the barely conceiled hatred in his dark impenetrable eyes, he recoiled. He thought oddly that they had never liked each other, not before the War, and not after it, and they never would. He had always known that they shared certain beliefs and ideals, were even alike in many ways. Both reared to be gentlemen, they had chosen to take different paths along the course of their lives, and, to his shame, Ashley had to admit to himself that Butler had made a lot more of it.

And here they were now, in this ridiculous situation, and Ashley could feel Rhett's rage increase with every passing minute. He knew the man hated him, not only for presenting a breed of man he despised - the dreamy, reluctant sort - but mainly because of Scarlett. It was almost as if she were present in the room, standing between them like some invisible wall. He knew Butler loved her, and somehow it had always pleased him to know that she did not return the feeling, instead seeking comfort elsewhere. With him. Yes, it had strangely touched him to know that she worshipped him so, and, selfishly, cruelly, he had used her, all these years, relying on her strength, afraid of what would happen to him if he lost her.

In any other situation prior to this night, he would have rejoiced at seeing the jealousy and anger in this conceited man's eyes, but somehow he did not feel anything of the sort right now. There was something else in Rhett's gaze as they faced each other, doubtful, sizing each other up. There was something in those coal-black orbs that disturbed Ashley and stirred in him a myriad of emotions, feelings that had been plaguing him for so long, ever since he'd first set foot into this house.

First, defiance. Then, as the magnitute of his transgression washed over him once more, there was guilt. Guilt and shame.

Ashley slumped his shoulders as if admitting defeat. He had nothing else to say. He was no better than Rhett, in fact, he was even worse. A hypocrite. A pretender. Worst of all, he was as much of an adulterer as Rhett. Every minute spent in this room, this house, disgraced Melanie's love. He had to get out of here.

"I - " He stopped. Was he really going to humiliate himself? But there was no other way, he deserved nothing else. And if Butler chose to beat the living daylights out of him, then so be it. "There's nothing I can say in my defense. I know I'm in no position to ask this of you, but... but perhaps you could act discreetly around my wife. It would pain her too much to know what I've done." The thought of what Melanie would say killed him. Somehow it did not matter so much what Scarlett would think, or anyone else for that matter... but Melly, only Melly...

"I see," Rhett said shortly. He would never wish to hurt Melanie Wilkes on purpose, but he would be damned before he let Ashley get out of here without taking advantage of the situation. He looked at Ashley and felt the irresistible urge to punch the man and walk out. But he restrained himself.

Perhaps there was more to be gained from this peculiar incident...

"I won't say a word to her - for Mrs. Wilkes' sake," Rhett said bluntly, "but I may not be so discreet around others." He smiled as Ashley blanched.

"What do you mean?" Ashley squeezed out. Was the man planning to give him away and destroy him utterly? His imagination went wild with images of social isolation, people cutting him as he went to town, his friends deserting him, hating him for his actions...

Rhett raised his brows as if reading his thoughts. "Don't wet your pants, man," he remarked. "I'm not going to walk around spreading your little secret, though perhaps the Old Guard may find it entertaining. Don't you think?" He laughed at his own joke.

"No," he continued with an evil glint in his eyes, "I don't think I'll do that. Not my style."

Ashley frowned at the last bit, annoyed at the man's arrogance but still grateful for his promise of discretion. But, if he was not going to give him away, what did he want?

Finally, Rhett said slowly, "I want you to tell Scarlett."

* * *

><p><em>Tell Scarlett.<em>

Of course.

Ashley averted his gaze. He tried to come to terms with it, but was unable to reconcile with the idea of having to tell her, of having to destroy the beautiful picture she had created of him in her mind.

This might cost him her love.

If she learned what he had done, she would come to hate him for it. She would hate him with the same fiery intensity that fuelled her proclamations of love. Could he stand living without that love, a love he could never truly return but that had given him so much strength, the strength to go on? All these years he had leaned on her, finding comfort in her devotion and unbreakable loyalty. Could he let her go, as he knew he must?

He knew she did not belong to him, would never belong to him, just as his true heart and soul could never be hers. He knew, also, what Rhett had in mind. For a brief moment, it was to him as if he knew the man's torment: to live with someone so unattainable, to love a woman who was out of his reach because of her alleged love for another man. If this obstacle was removed, then perhaps there would be a chance for Rhett and Scarlett.

Rhett and Scarlett.

He did not like the idea of her who was so fine and strong and beautiful, for all her spirited ways, being in love with this reprobate. He did not like it one bit.

But perhaps it was time for him to come to terms with his own feelings. He did not love Scarlett. Not the way she deserved to be loved. And as for her strength... he had been selfish for so long, using her and her feisty spirit and courage. She possessed all the strong qualities he lacked, and therefore he had clung to her like a child to its protector in a mad world. But now... the War was over. And although he would never be able to truly accept the way life was now - so grim, so charmless - it was not all wrong. There was his family. Beau, his son. Melanie, his wife who deserved nothing but his complete and utter love, something he had never given her because, somehow, Scarlett had always stood in the way.

Maybe it was time to let go...

He looked up at Rhett and it was to him as if for a fleeting second, they understood the other's motives, needs, desires. But as quickly as it came the moment was gone, and Ashley's shoulders slumped once more in a gesture of despondence. He had no choice but to accept Rhett's ultimatum, or his reputation would be ruined. Everything would go downhill. And, strangely, he was not willing to sacrifice what he had for Scarlett. This new knowledge startled him, but he refused to let it show.

"Well?" Rhett pressed. "You have a choice." A malicious smile spread over his face. "Tell her, and you can get out of this whole mess with your _honour_ intact." He spat the word like a curse.

Ashley's hatred was aroused anew. Butler would always remain the selfish bastard he was.

"I accept," he said finally through gritted teeth. "May I please go now?" He meant to say it in a sneering manner, but it sounded rather meek.

"The sooner the better," Rhett drawled, seemingly pleased with the outcome of their "conversation".

Polly, who had been silent the entire time, fascinated by the two men's interaction, spoke up. "Lemme take you to the backdoor, Mr. Wilkes," she offered, but Rhett shook his head.

"Ah, no, Polly, don't bother yourself," he said kindly, way too kindly. "Let the mistress of the house escort the gentleman outside."

Ashley gave him a look but kept his mouth shut. He was tired, so very tired of it all. He watched motionlessly as Butler stepped into the hall and shouted Belle's name. A minute later, she appeared in the doorway, breathless, and Ashley noticed how she tried in vain to ignore Butler's angry stare. He realized that she had probably never told Rhett about Ashley's nightly ventures, doubtlessly for some mysterious reason of her own.

"Belle, my dear," Rhett almost purred, his voice softened by false politeness, "would you be so kind as to show Mr. Wilkes to the door?" It was more of a command than a question.

"Certainly," Belle said evenly, although inside she was shaking. Rhett hated treachery, and she had concealed Mr. Wilkes' conduct from him. He wouldn't hold it against her, would he? She needed him.

"Mr. Wilkes?" She motioned for him to come with her.

Ashley, glad to be going, gave Rhett a curt nod, their eyes meeting briefly before he turned away and followed Belle.

"And Wilkes," Rhett called out. Ashley looked back over his shoulder.

"I never want to see you in here again."

Unable to think straight, Ashley nodded resignedly. He gave Polly a smile, a small thank-you for the time she'd bestowed on him. He was sure she'd had much better experiences. And then, without looking back again, he walked out of the room behind Belle, down the hall and the great staircase, through a small passage disguised as a junk room, and then, finally, through the door leading out to the railroad tracks. No one had seen them. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good-by Miss Watling," he said politely, his good manners never forsaking him.

"Mr. Wilkes," she replied, and, without much further ado, shut the door in his face.

It seemed to Ashley as if, with that wooden door, a chapter of his own life had been closed.

* * *

><p>Rhett was in no mood to speak with Belle, and she seemed relieved enough when he told her he wanted to be alone. He'd deal with her later.<p>

Locked in his room, he sank into a chair and finally smoked that cigar he'd needed so badly, having reclaimed the case from Polly after Ashley's departure.

Soon he was shrouded in smoke, contemplating what had just transpired.

In a way, it was beyond ridiculous. He still found it extremely amusing to have discovered Ashley in Belle's house of all places. The little gentleman, who, it seemed, was not so honourable after all.

He couldn't care less what that wimp did with his private parts - he could fuck himself senseless for all he cared. Who was he to judge another man for performing such actions? What did rail him up though, was Ashley's mortification, his weak attempts at defense. Why could he not stand his ground? It had been pitiful to watch him stutter and falter, unable to speak up for himself. For the hundredth time he wondered how Scarlett could love this man so much, or at least persuade herself that she did. Vain and selfish a man as he was, he had never gotten used to the fact that she would prefer Ashley to him.

It stung.

Hadn't he been there for her when she needed him? Had he not given her everything?_ But never your true heart_, a treacherous voice in his head answered. _You've never been honest with her. Always on your guard, resenting her for not loving you. You've never opened up to her. _

Well, he couldn't have done that, could he? Ashley had always been in the way. Ashley. The name drove him crazy. With a growl, he hurled the rest of his cigar into the fireplace and got up from his chair. Pacing the room, he tried to think straight.

In the end he'd gotten Ashley where he wanted to have him. The man would have to tell Scarlett of his less than honourable activities, and if all went well, then perhaps she would finally open her eyes and see. Perhaps she would finally realize that her love for Ashley was nothing but an illusion, a foolish dream that could never make her happy - that there was only one man who could make her happy. It was a fleeting hope, but it was all he had, and so he clung to it as a leave clings to a tree before the storm blows through.

He had to believe that he could still make her love him. If only Ashley were out of the way, then he would surely find a way. If Scarlett only cared, he would redouble his efforts to be kind to her, would endeavour to curb his jealously and resentment.

All he knew was that he loved her and wanted to be with her, no matter what.

Yes, he concluded, regaining faith. He had to believe that it was possible.

Maybe there was still a chance for him to win Scarlett's elusive heart.

Maybe all wasn't lost.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Ok guys, it's been ages since I posted the first chapter, and until recently I wasn't so sure if I'd ever find the time and inspiration to continue. But then I re-read the reviews I got for the first installment, which were all positive, and decided to give it another go. I've revised the first chapter and I'm much more satisfied with it now than I was before.<br>_**

**_One thing - I'm not so sure about Hank's Boston accent but, you see, I'm not from the States and don't know much about the different accents over there... I just searched online for some clues as to how people from the Boston area might talk, so please bear with me, lol._**

**_Oh, and last but not least, I think there's another writer out there with a similar username (greetings to you should you be reading this). Just to let you guys know, lest you confuse us.  
><em>**

**_Be well! _**


	3. Rejection

**_"How heavy the days are._**  
><strong><em> There's not a fire that can warm me,<em>**  
><strong><em> Not a sun to laugh with me,<em>**  
><strong><em> Everything bare,<em>**  
><strong><em> Everything cold and merciless,<em>**  
><strong><em> And even the beloved, clear<em>**  
><strong><em> Stars look desolately down,<em>**  
><strong><em> Since I learned in my heart that<em>**  
><strong><em> Love can die."<em>**

**_ Hermann Hesse_**

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><p><strong>3. Rejection<strong>

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><p>It was past midnight when Scarlett finally turned into Peachtree Street, her feet hurting at every step. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.<p>

For an hour or so after dragging herself up from the cold ground outside Belle Watling's, she had walked aimlessly through the darkness, not caring that it was late and paying no mind to the cold air which had replaced the formerly soothing evening breeze. She had stumbled past shop windows, taverns and public buildings in a daze, occassionally grabbing a bench or lamp post for support. Numb, dead to the outside world, she had slowly made her way through the nocturnal town , thankful that the streets were virtually deserted. She met no one, not a single soul - apparently, everyone else but her had the wisdom to stay at home at this hour and avoid the cold that was making her shiver in her light dress.

Now, the familiar silhouettes of the houses on both sides of the street loomed before her, and after a quick pause to check if anyone was watching her, she cautiously started walking down the sidewalk, more conscious now of the danger of being spotted. Surely the Old Guard would be mortified to see her prancing about in the middle of the night, alone and unprotected, and she would be the talk of the town for weeks. But then again, when was she ever _not_ the talk of the town? And, even more so, what did it all matter when her whole world had just crumbled into dust? In the face of Ashley's betrayal, it was so irrelevant what anyone might think of her. Nothing else mattered but the pain in her heart. She felt the strong urge to lie down in her bed, hide her face in a pillow and lick her wounds - to cry, cry endlessly for what she had lost.

Tonight, though, the sight of her home did not fill her with pride and happiness as it usually did. Instead, it looked dismal and dark, not at all inviting - a massive silhouette in the pitch-black night, waiting patiently to swallow her. Hesitantly, she raised a hand to the wrought iron fence as if to check whether it would vanish into thin air with the rest of the estate. She faltered, unsure what to do. She did not want to go inside. She would have preferred to spend the night at some other place, where no one knew her. Where no sharp-eared Mammy was sitting on the watch. Where no husband might be home.

The sudden thought of Rhett brought a pang of dread and anxiety. _Oh God, please don't let him be home. _She could not face him tonight, not when her heart was broken. She could not speak with him and listen to his drawling voice as he confronted her with her naivety, her stupidity - for he would surely sense that something was amiss with her. He read her like a book. And, eventually, he would manage to squeeze a confession out of her and make her speak until he knew everything he needed to know. No, she could not face him tonight of all nights, knowing now that every doubt he had ever expressed about the sincerity of Ashley's love had been justified. She could not let him see her despair, for weakness of any kind was her abhorrence, and he would use it mercilessly to his advantage. She hated herself almost as much as she hated Ashley for what he had done to her, and she could not bear Rhett's mockery on top of it all. She just couldn't. Why Rhett would take such an interest in her realization that Ashley's love had never truly been hers, she did not stop to think about. Her mind was in turmoil, a pool of disappointment and hurt feelings.

She was afraid of going inside and yet, this house was her only refuge. Her only option. She did not have the luxury of many friends, of any friend, actually, who would take her in at this time of night. She briefly thought of Melanie but rejected the idea immediately. It was out of the question. Melly would never understand, no matter how good a lie Scarlett came up with in order to vindicate her nightly excursion, and secondly, she could not go to that house now, where everything would remind her of Ashley. She would either fall into a rage and take it out on her sister-in-law or break under the weight of her inner turmoil and faint. And she never fainted. No, going to Melly's was not an option. She would have to make do with her own house, even at the risk of encountering Rhett or Mammy.

Refusing to think about what she would do if she really ran into one of them, she slowly pushed open the gate and slipped through. She shut it behind herself with utmost care, making almost no sound, and started walking down the long, straight pathway to the front door of the mansion. There was little danger of any of the servants standing by a window and spotting her, for their rooms lay at the back of the house, facing the adjoining property to the right. The real problem was to open the heavy wooden door and get up the stairs and to her own room without being heard or seen. She climbed the steps to the front door and halted. Nervously, she fumbled around in her pocket and pulled out the ornate brass key. She put it in and turned it carefully until the lock gave way, and every miniscule sound made her cringe. But as she stepped into the house, no one seemed to have noticed anything, for the hall was utterly still, dark and deserted.

She did not turn to walk into the dining room and get herself a glass of brandy, although it would have been a relief to feel the liquor's warmth on her tongue, to let it flow down her throat and soothe her. It was too dangerous, and the fatigue she felt was greater than any desire for alcohol. She needed to sleep, shut herself away until the morning came. Swift as a shadow she ascended the stairs, tiptoed to her room, opened the door and shut it behind herself before leaning against it, utterly exhausted. She made an attempt to remove her bonnet but she was not even wearing one. She had either never put it on or forgotten it outside Belle's - she didn't remember. She was in limbo, a ghostly shell of herself.

With one last effort she dragged herself to her massive bed, took off her shoes and fell onto the heavy bedspread, too tired to lift it and creep under the more comfortable blankets beneath. Her dress bothered her, but the discomfort quickly faded as fatigue finally claimed her.

But she was not yet granted access to the merciful haven that is the world of slumber. Before she drifted off to sleep, an image came to her mind.

_She was standing close to an abyss, in some faraway wasteland she had never seen before. Ashley was there, standing close to the edge. Worried for his safety, she cried out to him, "Ashley, be careful!"_

_But he did not seem to mind the danger. He was looking at her with that puzzling smile of his, his eyes sparkling with something like tender mockery._

_"Scarlett, darling..." he said, holding out his hand to her. "Come with me."_

_Forgetting her fear, she reached for him, hope burning in her chest. This was what she had always wanted - to go with him to some other place, to run away. Leave it all behind._

_She made a move to walk over to him and take his hand, but then she faltered, halting in her step. "But... but there's an abyss behind you, Ashley," she stated matter-of-factly. "There is no future there." She did not know why she said this, but it was the first thing that came to mind. If he asked her to come with him, what else could he be wanting but a future for the two of them? Together._

_Ashley glanced behind himself and shrugged. "There is no future anywhere, Scarlett," he began, turning her simple remark into something philosophical, as he usually did. "Not for the likes of me. But with you... with you, I could bear to live even in an abyss of darkness. I could bear anything if I only had you to give me strength. The strength to bear this world that holds no charm for me."_

_His words irritated her, annoyed her even. How she loathed this kind of talk, because she never understood what he meant to convey. Always there was this dreadful despair in his voice... no, not despair. Out of despair, hope could be born. It was more of a strange numbness, a hopelessness that stirred this familiar aversion in her. It was the absolute lack of spirit and courage that made his words so terribly disenchanting. And yet, when he smiled at her once more, she wavered. He was the one she loved, wasn't he? Surely, if she only held on to him, he would carry her over the abyss and into safety. On the other side of the chasm, happiness awaited._

_"Oh Ashley," she breathed, "you know I would go anywhere in the world with you."_

_He smiled and motioned to her to move over to him, and she did. When their hands touched, though, the spark she expected to ignite her, to fill her with joy, failed to appear. Instead, everything happened terribly fast. They were standing dangerously close to the edge of the abyss, and in her confusion over the non-existant chemistry between her and her almost-lover, Scarlett slipped. Losing her balance, she fell over the edge. Terrified, she clutched at the brink with a terrible cry of fear and held on to it for dear life, knowing she might fall into the menacing chasm, the unknown deep, any minute. Hanging there, she looked up at Ashley, begging him to help her._

_"Help me, Ashley!" She screamed, out of her mind with terror. "Help me, please!"_

_When he made no move, she said in agony: "Don't you love me? Please help me, so we can be together!"_

_He simply smiled, placidly, calmly. "How could I help loving you?" He offered, and the words sounded unpleasantly familiar. "You who have all the passion for life that I lack?"_

_"Please!"_

_He merely shrugged once more. "But maybe you're right, Scarlett darling. Maybe there is no future for us... for two people as different as we are. Maybe there isn't. The strong, like you, deserve better than to be stuck with the likes of me. For the weak, there is only the one option - to wait for the Götterdämmerung to come and end their pains. And perhaps, this, right here, is my twilight... "_

_"Oh Ashley, stop! Please help me! Help me!" She was getting weaker as the seconds passed, she could feel it. She could not hold on much longer. "Oh darling, please..."_

_But he was not listening anymore._

_"Goodbye, dear Scarlett." And he turned around with a sigh, leaving her._

_"Ashley!" She screamed, shocked and disbelieving. "ASHLEY!"_

_She could not fathom it. He had deserted her. This was the end. The end of love, the end of all hope. She would die. She might as well let go now..._

_Tears of disappointment and agony ran down her cheeks, and she was about to let go, when suddenly a strong, masculine hand gripped her arm. The man's face was hidden by the darkness that had fallen swiftly over the wasteland, she could not make out his face._

_"Don't you let go," he demanded, his voice strangely comforting. "I've got you."_

_He pulled her over and into his arms. Still full of adrenaline, relieved she had not died, she sobbed endlessly against his shoulder, clinging to him with shaky hands, her nails digging into him._

_When the first terrible shock had faded - after minutes, hours, she did not know - she wanted to thank her unknown saviour, look into his eyes, but she was too tired. Her body relaxed against him, and she felt his hand stroke her hair softly as her lids fell shut._

_"I've got you..." _

As the image faded and Scarlett fell asleep, one single tear ran down her cheek like a raindrop, leaving in its wake the salty trail of broken dreams.

* * *

><p><strong><em>So here it is, guys, a new chapter. Finally! I'm sorry it took me so long. One and a half years, my goodness... I know this isn't much, it's rather murky and dreamy and not very action-packed, if you get my meaning, but writing this short little interlude was kind of necessary in order to get me going again.<em> _Let me know what you think, and please be so kind as to point out any typos you may find. I'm posting this in some kind of a rush, so eager am I to get into the spirit of writing again. Anyway, I have this story planned out more or less, that is, I have a rough idea of where I'm going with this - now I just need to write out the chapters! Lol. I'll do my best, promise ya. Be well! _**


	4. Reaction

**_"Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings." _**

**_Gustave Flaubert_**

* * *

><p><strong>4. Reaction<em><br>_**

* * *

><p><strong>April 1871, two days before Ashley's birthday party<strong>

Bright rays of sunshine came piercing through the grand windows of Scarlett's bedroom the next morning, gently tickling her awake. Surprised, but none the less pleased by the lovely wakening, she yawned, thinking that she must have forgotten to draw the curtains yesterday. She pushed the blanket off of herself and stretched her limbs, bathing in the sunlight. She loved this – to stay in bed after she woke up, to let the world be the world and relax, to just be herself, Scarlett. It reminded her of Tara, of the carelessness and simplicity of her youth.

As she lay there in the morning light, her memory was gentle with her, and for a few blissful moments she remembered nothing of what had transpired the night before. She felt strangely at ease, eerily peaceful... almost _free_. There was nothing in her head but thoughts of her beloved home, her haven. It was to her as if she could hear the swishing of the dark pines at Tara, could smell the red earth and Ellen's unique lemon verbena scent, could hear the boisterous voice of Gerald. Tara was peace and tranquility, it was her parents merged into a house: everything good, everything loving, everything soothing.

Yes, she could see it all before her mind's eye. She could see herself sitting on the wide porch, so young, so carefree. A soft breeze in her hair, making the humid Georgia air bearable. She could see herself, looking up and catching sight of the silhouette of a rider galloping swiftly up the driveway. He came closer and closer until she finally recognized him. He smiled at her and her breath caught... she'd never forget it. Her sweet Ashley...

_Her sweet Ashley. _

With a jolt, she sat up in bed, all thoughts of Tara gone as the memories of yesternight came flooding back suddenly, painfully, hitting her with the force of an avalanche. And with them they brought all the pain, hurt pride and heartache she'd felt as she'd watched Ashley enter Belle Watling's whorehouse. When he had spit in the face of their love.

It was too much. Suddenly, she felt nauseous, sick of it all, sick of her own self. She did not welcome the thoughts of last night, but it was no use. The images entered her mind swiftly and without mercy. She remembered the entire dreadful episode and it tore at her heart, the selfish, passionate heart that recalled so keenly all the sentimentality, the nostalgia, the timid hopes and vain ambitions she had linked for so long to Ashley and his love.

He had really done it. He had gone to Belle Watling's and, if she was not mistaken, he had been doing so for quite a while. Ashley Wilkes in a brothel. Had she possessed more humor, she might have laughed at the irony. But to her, there was no irony in this. There was only the terrible knowledge that he did not think highly enough of their silent agreement to be true to each other, both in soul _and _body, to stay away from that place and consort with whores. He did not think highly enough of _her,_ Scarlett. No, it wasn't the least bit funny.

She clutched the sheet in frustration, her knuckles beginning to hurt. All she could do was think of his betrayal and ask herself, again and again and again, _how could he? _How could he have done that to her, who had loved him for so long? She had always believed, with all her heart, that he loved her, too. That he loved her and respected her and that the only thing that stood in their way was Melanie.

But, apparently, she had been wrong. He did not love her. He did not care for her the way she had always thought he did. His actions of last night only proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. If he truly loved her, he would never have done that to her. Never. He would never have considered breaking their agreement, their beautiful pledge of chastity. She had always thought of their bond as something pure and sacred, something unsullied by war and hunger and all the other calamities life had thrown at her. She had drawn her strength from that bond. To realize he'd never truly felt this way about her, never loved truly loved her, was a heavy blow to her self-esteem. She did not realize, as of yet, that it was nothing more than that – a blow to her self-esteem and pride, a shock and pain that touched only the outermost layer of her heart. Right now, it was painful indeed. It was humiliating, it made her feel silly and weak – and she hated nothing more than to feel silly and weak, for she was neither.

_Ashley doesn't love me. Ashley doesn't love me, _her own voice echoed in her head. _He doesn't give a damn about me. If he did, he would never have …_ She recoiled at the thought of what he might be doing at night with his 'tidbit', as Belle had called the unknown harlot Ashley seemed to be consorting with on a regular basis. Her mouth twisted at the thought of Belle herself, at the memory of her coarse words and guttural voice and Ashley's compliant silence. He had not faltered to go in. He had not stopped to think about what he was doing to her, Scarlett. What on earth was he thinking? If anyone other than her ever found out, he would be ruined and his marriage, too, although Melanie, the fool, would probably not believe it.

Melanie. What would she say if she knew? Would she condemn Ashley, leave him even? Scarlett did not know what to make of her sister-in-law, or anyone else for that matter, now that Ashley's terrible betrayal had shaken one of the very foundations of her being. Tara, her desire for wealth and security, and Ashley, had influenced everything she had done over the past ten years. Tara was safe, wealth and security were hers, and she had presumed that one day she would also have Ashley. She had never halted to consider the details, had never even imagined what it would be like to live with him – she had only ever thought of having him, of becoming his wife. But now everything was lost. He did not love her, or at least not the way she wanted to be loved by a man – ardently, completely.

_But he must love me,_ a stubborn voice attempted to change her mind one last time. _He has always been so kind to me. He told me I was strong and beautiful and good. And he kissed me! He wanted me and he held me and kissed me. And he told me that he loved me, didn't he? _

She searched her memory for the moment Ashley had told her he loved her, but she couldn't find it. She just couldn't and it made her feel all the more foolish. She was trying to remember in vain because he had_ never _told her he loved her. It had _all_ been in vain. What on earth had she been thinking all these years? What had she been doing? She had thrown herself at him again and again and he had never loved her. Not while he was in Atlanta on Christmas furlough, not in the orchard at Tara, not after her marriage to Frank when she'd asked him to work for her. Never. She had been living in a fantasy. She had believed in a dream and made a fool of herself.

But his lack of love for her was not the only thing that bothered her. Worse even than the terrible knowledge that he did not care was the thought that he did not seem to respect her at all. If he did, he would never have promised her to be faithful to her, he wouldn't have asked her to become a nun for his sake when he knew he was too weak to do the same. Why had he done it? What did he want from her, if he did not love her? If he did not care for her heart and her mind, what did he want?

_My dear, he does not even know that you have a mind, _a familiar voice mocked her. Rhett. She squinted against the sun and frowned. He had told her, back then in the store after she'd married Frank, that Ashley did not care for her. He had often mocked her love for the "wooden-headed gentleman" and made fun it, doubtlessly for some strange reason of his own. Yes, he had tried to make her understand that Ashley did not care for her and she had refused to believe him. She had always thought – and still thought – that Rhett simply took a perverse pleasure in besmirching and mocking the only pure and sacred thing in her life. But now she had to admit that he had been right. He had been right about everything and she had been a fool.

Suddenly, she grew angry. Angry at Rhett, for no reason at all but the fact that he had been right about something so simple and yet so important. Angry at herself for being a goddamn fool. And, most of all, angry at Ashley. For letting her on, for saying all those sweet words and making her believe he loved her. But maybe she had imagined that, too.

She jumped up from the bed, suddenly animated by a strange but welcome energy. She had to get out of here. She had to clear her head and do something with her body, her hands, her mind. If she remained in this room and continued thinking about Ashley, she would go mad.

She considered going to the mills directly but cast away the idea immediately. In one of her rare moments of honesty she admitted to herself that she did not want to face Ashley yet. Not because she was a coward, she hastened to add, but because … well, because she just did not want to see him yet. She needed to get a hold of herself and sort out her thoughts, and then she would be ready to see him. But what she should say to him, she did not know. Too great was the heartache his betrayal had inflicted.

She decided to drive over to the store. There was always plenty of work to do there. Maybe that would help her forget last night and the fact that her life had just turned upside down, again. One would imagine that after everything she had been through, she should be used to the whims of fate by now. But she wasn't. It was only her iron will and her inner strength that kept her going, now that the dream of Ashley's pure and sacred love had collapsed like a house of cards.

* * *

><p>An hour later, after a quick morning toilet and breakfast, Scarlett hastened out of her room and down the hall, eager to leave the house. All she wanted to do was get away from here. Putting on her gloves as she walked, she did not hear the steps coming up the stairs, and so, as she reached the landing, she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed that she was not alone. Glove in hand, she stood still, looking at Rhett.<p>

She had had no time yet to think much about him, except for his mocking words that she had remembered both yesterday outside Belle's and this morning. Something inside her told her not to dive too deeply into her psyche and think of him, though she did not know why.

She swiftly took in his appearance and saw that he was wearing a dark blue suit, immaculately pressed as always and fitting him to perfection. His black hair was nicely coiffed in a way that made him look both dashing and elegant. But as he came up the stairs towards her, Bonnie in his arms, she noticed that his eyes were a blood-shot and he looked tired. Her brows flew together in a scowl. Had he been out all night, too? Had he been to Belle's? Had he...

_Belle's! _

Her eyes widened involuntarily. It was not just Belle's, it was also Rhett's, she remembered with shock. She did not know much about it and she was not one hundred percent sure, but she bet that he owned that accursed house, at least partially. God curse him. Did he have his little "tidbit", too? Did he consort with whores every night? Did he - terrible thought – did he _know_ about Ashley's nightly exploits? Did he know that Ashley was a regular guest at his and Belle's establishment? No, it couldn't be. Rhett hated Ashley and would surely have told her already if he knew. He would have wasted no time to rub it in.

Even as she contemplated her anger at him and Ashley and all men in general, the stupid thought of telling him about last night crossed her mind. Oh, it would be heavenly to cry her eyes out in his arms and rage against Ashley, to release the thoughts and the anguish and let him soothe her. He was the only one who would understand.

But it was not to be. She remembered that they were not friends, not anymore. They had not really been friends since... well, since she had banished him from her room because Ashley had asked her to do it because he loved her too much to bear the thought of Rhett touching her – or so she had supposed it to be.

They never really spoke to each other any more, not about truly meaningful things anyway. She realized vaguely that this bothered her but did not dwell on the thought. It vanished from her mind when she remembered that he would never soothe her because he hated Ashley, and that she did not want him to soothe her because he was probably whoring around at Belle's, too. God, how she hated him!

She began to descend the stairs, halting only reluctantly when they met halfway on the stairs to stroke Bonnie's smooth cheek. If Rhett noticed her chagrin, he didn't let it show, for he simply raised one of his eyebrows in that typical fashion of his and said calmly, "Mrs. Butler, I believe. Good morning."

"Rhett." She threw him a look, willing him to mock her or insult her in any other way so that she would have a reason to rate at him and release some of her anger. But he did nothing. He simply looked at her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

Under his long scrutiny, perhaps the longest he'd given her since she'd banished him from her room, Scarlett lost her confidence. There was a tension in the air she couldn't place. She no longer knew what to say, for his gaze discomforted her. If he did mock her now, which was always an invitation to react and fire back, what should she say? She had no idea. She did not want to attack him any more. She did not want to speak to him about Belle and certainly not about Ashley. She just couldn't face him any longer. She was confused and heartbroken, and it was to her as if Rhett's eyes were boring into her skin. She needed to get away.

She was about to brush past him and escape when he said, "And where are you going this morning, Mrs. Butler?" His face was bland.

"I'm – I'm - " Dear God, what was wrong with her? "The store." She finally said, somewhat meekly.

"I see," he replied, seemingly oblivious to her tension. "Well, far be it from me to delay you. But, be so kind and inform this dear husband of your heart – are you planning to go to the mills as well?"

She looked up at him sharply, trying to dissect his thoughts. She thought there was a flicker of eagerness in his eyes but she couldn't be sure. The expression vanished from his dark orbs the moment he noticed she was trying – in vain – to read him. The mills? Why on earth would he care whether she went there or not? He rarely asked about her whereabouts and almost never inquired after the store or the mills. He would listen to her stories patiently but he hardly ever started a conversation about these things himself.

"No," she said curtly, "not the mills. It's - " She faltered and he looked strangely at her. Did he notice that something was wrong with her? He always read her like a book, she grudgingly admitted. But she was determined not to let him read her mind this time. "I've got a lot to do at the store, so I don't think I'll make it to the mills today." She said with a little more ease.

"Ah," was his reply. "That will certainly disappoint a certain gentleman." He added coolly, bending over Bonnie's small head as if he didn't give a damn if his wife answered him or not.

Rhett couldn't resist the taunt. He had sworn yesterday to redouble his efforts to be kind to her, but it was not that easy. Old habits die hard. And she was behaving so strangely this morning – he couldn't make out what she was thinking, which was a rarity in itself. She seemed tense, sad, angry. At him? It was the first time in months that some kind of emotional tension was palpable between the two of them, and it spurred him on to say things he didn't mean to say.

Scarlett frowned, her frown swiftly turning into a scowl when she realized of whom he was speaking. How dare he? Now of all times, when she was devastated? Of course, he didn't know, but why did he have to bring up Ashley now? Why did he have to be so hateful?

"How dare you?" She said with real anger in her voice, and it shook a little as she spoke, which was not lost on him. "How dare you bring him up, now that – now, when I've -" She stopped, confused once again. She could never let him know what had happened. She could never let him know that he had been right all along. Scarlett shook her head involuntarily and spun around, hastily running down the steps, away from his face that had suddenly turned alert. When she was almost at the bottom, she heard him say, "Scarlett, are you alright?"

It was the first time in ages that he had called her by her forename. Usually, he offered an ironic "Mrs. Butler" or a mocking "my pet". But this time he had called her Scarlett, and it did something to her. No one in the world said her name the way he did. But she quickly pushed the peculiar mood away. She needed air, she had to get out of here. She did not turn around as she replied smoothly, "I'm fine. Perfectly fine." Nothing had ever been further from the truth. Her mind was screaming, _I'm not alright! I'm not alright!_, but she would be damned before she told him. "If you will excuse me now, I've got business to attend to. Goodbye."

She slipped out of the house and shut the door behind herself. What on earth was wrong with her? And why did she even care what he said to her or even how he said her name? She did not know and she refused to think about it. She would think about it tomorrow.

* * *

><p>After she had fled, Rhett stood motionlessly on the stairs for a long while, staring at the closed door.<p>

"_How dare you? How dare you bring him up, now that – now, when I've - "_

What had she meant? Had something happened between Wilkes and her that troubled her? But no. He was sure she had not seen him in the last few days. He had his ways to find out her whereabouts, even if she chose not to inform him of them. It was true, though - he shouldn't have brought up Ashley. It never served any purpose but to rile her up and make him even more bitter. But he was powerless against his own jealousy. It was a cancer killing him from inside. It made him say things that hurt her, it made him turn into the kind of man he did not want to be: resentful, bitter. He wanted to be gracious around her, he wanted to spoil her and be kind to her, _love _her, for she deserved it. He knew better than anyone else how much kindness and love she deserved after everything she'd been through.

But how could he love her openly, knowing she did not return his love? Her rejection and blindness made him angry and brought out the worst in him. The line between love and hate is thin, and he hated her often. Sometimes he wanted to shake her, hurt her and kiss her until she was bruised so that she would finally see they were meant for each other.

But hadn't he realized last night that this was exactly the problem? He was mad at her for not loving him and therefore he never showed her that he loved her, for fear she might laugh at him and use his love against him. He loved her passionately, with all of his black heart, and yet all he ever did was mock or insult her.

If only she came to her senses about Wilkes. He could hardly wait for the little gentleman to confess his secret to her, and if she possessed any sense at all, she would simply _have to _realize that the man did not love her, had never loved her. Not even Scarlett could fool herself into believing that a man who loved her completely would walk into a brothel after they had promised to be physically faithful to each other. At the thought of that foolish promise, his mouth twisted angrily. Scarlett liked to call him a skunk, but Ashley was the real bastard. He had toyed with her for years, leading her on with endearments and promises whose real meaning her straight-forward and non-analytical mind could never really grasp. She did not understand hidden meanings and Wilkes knew that. Over the years, he had been too selfish to let her go because he had needed Scarlett, needed her steel and determination to drag him on since he was too much of a coward to weather the storms of life alone.

Rhett knew that if only Ashley were out of the way, there was a chance for himself and Scarlett. A real chance. But he could not make her see. This was _her _test, _her _challenge. She had to do this alone. She had to grow up and open her eyes to the simple truth that she belonged with him. Rhett promised to himself once more to endeavor to be kind to her until that happened, and if there was a God indeed and she finally realized that she needed him as much as he needed her, he would lavish her with all the love, all the tenderness, and all the passion he had kept hidden for so long.

He did not know why she had been reluctant to go to the mills today but he hoped she would go soon. If not, he would find a way to force Wilkes into meeting her somewhere, somehow. He felt like this was a turning point – if Wilkes confessed and Scarlett's fool's paradise crumbled, he, Rhett, would get his chance to make her his. He would get the chance to show her just how much he loved her.

Yes. If Ashley confessed and Scarlett opened her eyes, they would find a way, together.

They would be on the edge of a golden world.

* * *

><p>At the store, she busied herself with checking the books and sorting through some newly arrived stock. She examined whether the shop windows were in order and scolded one of the clerks when she noticed a broken porcelain dish and a vase that had not been sufficiently dusted. The clerk complied but looked at her with a face that told her exactly what he thought of her mood.<p>

She was irritable and ill-tempered indeed. The entire morning she went about her tasks with her head held high and her back straight, bellowing at her employees, holding her tongue only when customers were present. Then she would put on a smile and make light conversation even though her mind was in turmoil.

She tried her best not to think of Ashley and it worked for the better part of the morning and the afternoon. But as soon as she had checked all the books there were, pilloried every inaccuracy and spotted every redundant dust grain, her mind began to play tricks on her and she started thinking of him again. Of his betrayal. Of his love for her that had either died long ago or never existed in the first place. It was depressing. Suddenly she wished desperately for some kind of diversion, for something or someone to cheer her up.

She was standing behind the counter, listlessly rearranging a pile of prettily embroidered table cloths, when she got the diversion she desired, although not the kind she had been thinking of. A familiar face appeared, heart-shaped, docile, loving – Melanie.

"Melly," she said with a frown, surprised and not overly pleased.

What was Melly doing here? She did not like it that much when she visited her at work, or anyone else for that matter. Also, she felt a strange, unfamiliar unease as she looked into those trusting brown eyes. Melanie suspected nothing. She knew nothing of her husband's sinful exploits, had no idea that Ashley was capable of such things. And it was not out of kindness or love towards Melanie that Scarlett felt pity for her, but because she sensed that they had both been fooled. Fooled by a man who was not _that_ much of a gentleman, after all.

"Scarlett, darling," Melanie greeted her with a warm smile, leaning over the counter with some effort to kiss her sister-in-law's cheeck. "How are you, dear?"

Scarlett took in her smile and felt the urge to push her away and scream at her: _You fool! Don't you know your husband is a whoremonger? Don't you know he consorts with other women because you can't have any more children? Don't you know he's betrayed me, and you, too? _

But, of course, she said nothing of the kind. It would not do. "What are you doing here, Melly?" Scarlett asked instead, a little too sharply. Melanie's face fell but she quickly recovered, putting a gentle hand on Scarlett's to stop her from fumbling with the cloths.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry for coming here – I – I know you don't like it that much, dear. I had meant to call on you at your home but you weren't there – Captain Butler was so kind to tell me where you'd gone. And so I came here. Forgive me, dear. But I need to discuss something with you."

Scarlett's eyes widened and she raised her head quickly. Was it possible that Melanie already knew? Did she know everything about Ashley's misconduct and wanted to confide in her? But no. There was no pain in Melanie's eyes, no grudge. Quite the contrary. Her face was glowing with happiness and connivance.

"What is it, Melly?"

"Oh dear, can't you guess? You know Ashley's birthday is in two days, and you promised to come and help me decorate and prepare everything! Oh Scarlett, I'm so excited! We need to discuss some particulars, dear. You're so smart and I'm sure you have much better ideas than I do and..." Melanie's voice prattled on, but Scarlett was not listening anymore.

The birthday party! Oh, Mother of God. She had totally forgotten about it. Could she face Ashley already in two days time? Could she look at him without throwing herself at him, begging him to love her again? Could she shake his hand without the urge to scratch his eyes out for what he had done to her?

She realized that she couldn't. If their first encounter took place the day after tomorrow, she would scream and shout and kill him, or else, throw herself at him and make a fool of herself again. She either had to stay away or meet him before the party.

And suddenly she knew what she had to do. Suddenly she knew what had made her so irritable and moody the entire day. She had never been one to shrink away from a confrontation. She was not the type. Why had she not driven to the mills immediately this morning? She needed to clear the air _now_. She had to go to there and confront him, let it all out. Suddenly she craved to see his face and read in it whether he still loved her or not, if he had ever loved her at all. She craved to haul insults at him and see his reaction. She wanted to kiss him and taste one last time the sweet flavor of his lips.

"Melly," she interrupted the other woman urgently but not unkindly. "I need to go. I forgot that I have an important business meeting at the mills." She lied smoothly.

"Oh, but dear - " Melly looked disappointed.

"I'm very sorry," she put on the charm. "Why don't you come over to my house tomorrow and we'll discuss everything in detail? But I'm sure you already have it all planned out... dear." She struggled with the endearment.

Surprised and oddly grateful for Scarlett's kind and flattering words, Melanie relented. "Oh, darling, thank you. You are the best sister in the world. Of course your business is more important than my mindless chatter. Yes, I'll come tomorrow. Before lunch?"

Scarlett nodded, already putting on her bonnet and gloves. "Perfect. And after we've discussed it all, we'll have lunch together." She was not particularly keen on spending time with Melly or having lunch with her, but she needed to get rid of her right now, and quickly. And one can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

She ushered Melanie out of the store, having a hard time keeping her impatience in check.

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear," Melanie said sweetly after Scarlett had ascended her buggy and taken hold of the reins. "Drive safely. And remember, if Ashley's still there – oh, it's not yet five, I'm sure he'll still be there – remember! He mustn't know anything!"

An odd feeling took hold of Scarlett as she looked down at Melanie's kind face, her brown eyes sparkling with affection. She did not know whether she wanted to slap her or lay a gentle hand on that heart-shaped brow in a gesture of reassurance: _Don't worry. Everything shall be alright. _

"Goodbye, Melly."

She drove off, never looking back, and she felt rather than saw the expression in Melanie's eyes – wishing Scarlett well, praying for her safety.

But Melanie's unworldly face swiftly faded to the back of her mind as she made her way through the city and finally entered the woods. Excitement spurred her on, her heart was beating wildly. Forward, forward! Ever forward now, to the mills, where Ashley awaited her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's note: I think there are about 3 to 4 chapters to come. I'll try to update again soon but this is one hot and beautiful summer here in Germany and I've got some term papers to write as well, so, as always, I can't promise anything. Anyway, feel free to review and tell me what you think. Thanks you. <strong>_


	5. Realization

_**"Ground not upon dreams, you know they are ever contrary." Thomas Middleton**_

* * *

><p>5. Realization<p>

* * *

><p>It was ten past five when the mills came into view at the end of the sandy forest road, and Scarlett's heart constricted. Taking in the complex of small clustered buildings amidst the dark pine trees, she reined in the horse and halted, gazing ahead as if unsure what to do next. She could see Hugh and the team drivers sitting on a pile of lumber outside the lumber yard, probably waiting to be paid off. She wondered why Ashley had not done it yet, since it was his task whenever she was not around to do so. She hesitated, unwilling to interact with anyone except the man she'd come to see.<p>

The tepid air of the late afternoon caressed her sensitive skin; it felt oddly comfortable to breathe it in deeply, to linger for a moment under the treetops and listen to the faint sounds of the mighty woods. She had always been one to appreciate nature, its bewildering variety and simple beauties, so familiar and soothing in their constancy. But not even Mother Nature could calm her now, so overpowering was the thought of the task that lay ahead.

Usually, the sight of the mills was one that never failed to make her feel proud and confident. She considered them one of her greatest achievements. Her hard work under those wooden roofs had enabled her to support her family, hold Tara – and keep Ashley close to her.

Back then, in those early days after her marriage to Frank, with Melanie's unwitting help, she had more or less tricked Ashley into staying in Georgia and working for her at the mills, a scheme she had never regretted. Not particularly because Ashley had ever been of much help to her as a colleague - quite the contrary. She often had to double-check his calculations, urge him to collect debts or encourage him to be stricter with the staff. However, although she had been surprised at first, to say the least, that he was not a good business man, she had quickly arranged herself with his infirmities, for his existing or non-existing skills had never been the reason why she'd asked him to work for her in the first place. She had wanted to be close to him, for the thought of losing him, at that time, had been unbearable. With Frank's ring on her finger, she'd still wanted Ashley by her side, maybe more so than ever before. She had known that working beside him would give her plenty of opportunities to seek him out and share at least some fleeting hours of the day with him. She had thought, then, that she needed him in order to stay alive and keep her head up, her heart strong.

And indeed, up until yesterday, she'd hardly ever neglected a chance to drive out to the mills and be with him.

But yesterday was gone, and now... now, everything was different. Now, she gazed ahead with constricting emotions in her heart. On the one hand, there was eagerness, a burning desire to see him and find out what he truly felt. She needed to hear from his lips either a declaration of love, sealed with a lover's kiss, or the confirmation of her worst fears. Either way, she could not go on with the knowledge that he was a regular at Belle Watling's brothel without confronting him. But on the other hand, the fear of his rejection was so great, it made her feel weak and uncertain, quite unlike herself. She was still in shock after his betrayal, unsure of the shape of his heart or anything else that concerned him. Most of all, though, she was not sure _how _to confront him. What on earth was she to say to him? How should she start and how could she get her message across? She wasn't even sure she knew what her message was, for that matter.

But, as hurriedly as these questions went in and out of her mind, she came to a practical decision. Although she did not know how exactly she was going to achieve what she wanted, she at least knew _what_ she wanted: answers. Answers to the questions that tortured her, and they were simple questions. _Why would you go to Belle's when we promised to be faithful to each other? How could you do this to me, after everything we've been through?_

No, she would be damned before she backed down now. Her steely resolve - notorious, essential - forbid her to turn back. She was determined to get answers from Ashley, for if she didn't, she would surely go mad.

And with that, she straightened her shoulders and took up the reins once more. The horse started moving towards the mills, and suddenly Scarlett couldn't wait to get there. There was a strange gleam in her catlike green eyes that not even Rhett would have been able to decipher. This was a turning point, the end of an era, with no guarantee for the beginning of a new and better one. After her conversation with Ashley, she would either have him forever and rejoice, or forever hold her peace, put to silence by his indifference. The dark trees around her began to sway conspiratorially in the gentle breeze, as if they knew something she did not.

* * *

><p>She brought the buggy to a halt in front of the right wing of the great lumber yard, where the office was situated, and was immediately greeted by Hugh and the team drivers. Sighing inwardly, she let Hugh help her out of the buggy and asked without much of a greeting in return, "Is Ashley here?"<p>

"Yes, he's in the office," said Hugh, his habitually worried expression firmly in place at the sight of her offhand tone. "He's trying to - I mean, he's going over the books."

"Oh," she said, not bothering with his awkward slip of the tongue. "I must speak to him."

Hugh forced a smile. "I though you weren't coming today. You're never late. I mean, I don't mean to say -"

"I've got an important matter of business to discuss with him," she interrupted him unceremoniously. She had better things to do than dally away time with this fool.

She paid off the teamsters and Hugh, knowing they would be on their way as soon as they had the money, which would give her some kind of privacy with Ashley. Then, abruptly leaving them, she walked toward the office, showing plainly by her manner that she did not care to be accompanied. Inside the lumber yard, she hesitated for a moment, once again oddly struck by the magnitude of what she was about to do. But it had to be done, there was no going back. Quietly, she tiptoed to the office and laid a quivering hand on the doorknob. Before she could change her mind, she pushed it down and opened the door. She could feel the sweat on her back.

Ashley, bent over the books on the work desk, looked up at her with mild surprise, but on his lips there was a little smile that was almost a grin, as if to say: _I know you can never stay away for long. _

"Why, Scarlett," he said, what are you doing here this time of the day? I wasn't expecting you."

She couldn't say anything. She just stared at him, wide-eyed, speechless, unable to move. The last thing she'd seen of him last night had been his blonde hair in the moonlight as he made a dash to Belle Watling's door. A few moments later her world had fallen apart. And now he was here, at this very hour, in the office at the lumber yard, his hair as bright and his smile as handsome as ever, although he did look a little tired. It was ridiculous.

How could he smile like that, after everything that had transpired? How could he be so... so hypocritical? She marveled at him, and not in a good way, which was a miracle in itself. He was smiling at her as if nothing had changed, as if they could go on as they always had. But of course, he had no idea she knew his secret. Well, she would teach him better. Before she could stop it, her brows flew together in a scowl, and Ashley's smile wavered a little around the edges. He frowned, too, confused by her silence and saturnine look.

Scarlett, for once sensing another human being's notions, quickly recovered herself and forced a tight-lipped smile to her lips, which only confused Ashley more.

"My dear," he made another try, attempting to lighten the mood, "why aren't you helping Melly get ready for the surprise party?"

Scarlett swallowed and raised her brows as if amused by his words. "Why, Ashley Wilkes!" she cried, trying to sound coquettishly indignant, but it came out rather awkwardly. "You weren't supposed to know a thing about it. Melly will be so disappointed if you aren't surprised."

This sounded more like Scarlett, and Ashley smiled again, relieved. "Oh, I won't let on. I'll be the most surprised man in Atlanta."

"Now, who was mean enough to tell you?" Scarlett inquired, buying time to sort out her thoughts.

"Practically every man Melly invited. General Gordon was the first. He said it had been his experience that when women gave surprise parties they usually..."

Ashley's voice prattled on, but Scarlett was not even listening anymore. She looked at him and through him and all she could think of was the fact that he'd betrayed both her _and _Melanie. And perhaps, she thought in a moment of rare wisdom, he had betrayed Melanie even more, for she was not only his wife but also the most gullible female known to mankind, a woman who would never think ill of her husband and wouldn't believe him to be capable of such a deed, not in a thousand years. Suddenly, the thought of how much Melanie would suffer upon learning of Ashley's sin struck Scarlett with a feeling of dread and anxiety, though she did not know why. Why would she care if Melanie got hurt? It was what she wanted, wasn't it?

"...with a bottle of whisky and he was too drunk to get out of bed and - oh, every man who's ever had a surprise party given him told me."

"The mean things!" cried Scarlett, automatically, like an actress who'd played her part too many times to forget her line. She did not quite know how to approach the topic, she needed more time, and so she looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in many months. And for the first time, her heart did not leap with happiness. It did not swell in her bosom until it positively ached with pleasure, ached as with a burden of joyful, hot, unshed tears. Instead, it ached with something terrible, something ominous, and she couldn't place it. And also, it ached with a feeling of anger that was growing with every second that passed. She had a mad impulse to snatch off her bonnet and toss it into the air and cry "Why, Ashley, WHY?" Then she thought how startled Ashley would be if she did this, and she suddenly laughed, laughed mirthlessly until tears came to her eyes. He laughed, too, throwing back his head as though he enjoyed her laughter, thinking her mirth came from the friendly treachery of the men who had given Melly's secret away, not from the pain he'd unwittingly inflicted upon her.

"Well, Scarlett. I'm going over the books. Come, do sit down."

Too sad and confused to protest, she sat down in the chair before the desk. Ashley, following her, seated himself on the corner of the rough table, his long legs dangling easily. Sensing her odd expression once more, he frowned and attempted a light joke. "Scarlett, dear, what is it? You, not in a mood to have a look at my terrible miscalculations? I'm surprised indeed."

Her head snapped up, her lips twitching as she thought to herself, _I'm surprised, too, Ashley. Surprised that you're such a hypocrite, liar and cheater. _

He had never seen a more odd expression than hers at that very moment, for she now sported a light smile he would have described as teasing, had it not been for the thinly veiled scorn in her eyes.

"You're right, Ashley, I just can't be bothered to fool with any books today. When I'm wearing a new bonnet, it seems like all the figures I know leave my head." She did not know why she said this, but the words left her mouth automatically. It was as if her brain was trying to prepare her for the onslaught by keeping Ashley at bay for just a little longer with nonsense such as this. She realized dimly that most of the things she'd ever said to him, except for the times when she'd foolishly declared her feelings, had been absolute nonsense.

"Figures are well lost when the bonnet's as pretty as that one," Ashley said now. And then, to her absolute horror, "Scarlett, you get prettier all the time!"He slipped from the table and, laughing, took her hands, spreading them wide so he could see her dress. "You are so pretty! I don't believe you'll ever get old!"

At his touch Scarlett realized that, without being conscious of it, she had hoped that just this thing would happen. All this afternoon, she had hoped for the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his eyes. This was the first time they had been utterly alone since the cold day in the orchard at Tara, the first time their hands had met in any but formal gestures, and through the long months she had hungered for closer contact. But, to her immense surprise, it did not stir in her the feelings she had thought it would.

How odd that the touch of his hands did not excite her! Once his very nearness would have set her a-tremble. Now she felt a curious aversion, an almost physical need to push him away. No fever leaped from his hands to hers. This puzzled her, made her disconcerted. He had always been her Ashley, her bright, shining darling and she had loved him better than life. But now she felt nothing even close to warm regard, let alone all-consuming love. There was no strain or fever, only anger and shock at his behavior. How dare he flirt with her, compliment her and touch her with his contaminated hands after what he had done? How could he _do_ this?

"Do not touch me," she said suddenly, pulling her hands away so roughly he let out a surprised breath.

"Scarlett, what -" He leaned forward again but withdrew before the storm in her eyes. "I don't understand -"

"Oh, then I will make you understand!" She jumped up from the little stool, its legs screeching over the wooden floor. She was hurt, bewildered, enraged. Nothing and no one had ever managed to make her equally angry. She stood with her hands balled into fists, her heart beating rapidly. "Don't you dare touch me, Ashley Wilkes, or I swear, I'll -"

"Scarlett!" He cried out, getting up as well and holding up his hands as if trying to calm her down. "What on earth - "

But she wouldn't have it. Not anymore.

"I cannot believe your gall," she cut him short. "I can't believe how you can even look me in the eye, _me_! How could you, Ashley? How could you, after everything we've been to each other? After everything we were?" Her voice sounded uncommonly shrill even to her own ears but she didn't give a damn.

His eyes were less tranquil now. He looked utterly confused and it made her hate him even more. "The gall to look you in the eye? Scarlett, what have I done? What have I done to make you so... terribly angry? Please, dear - "

"Oh, the time for "dear" is over!" She hurled back with a violent jerk of her head. She finally spat out, "I _saw_ you, Ashley. I saw you the other night!"

He blanched and she thought she had him, but still he wouldn't give in. "You saw me, Scarlett? Where? When?" He asked quietly, but there was a hopeless quality to his tone.

She huffed incredulously, stunned by his impertinence. She surprised herself and him when she added calmly, with an iciness more cutting than any rage, "Outside Belle Watling's, last night."

Something died in his eyes, something that looked like hope. He sat down on the stool she had deserted and let out a heavy sigh the likes of which she'd never heard before. It was the sigh of a man utterly defeated. He looked at her, cheeks burning with shame, but still he held her scorching gaze, held it until the sheer magnitude of its condemnation made him look away again. "Scarlett, I - I don't know what to say." She took a step forward and he recoiled, as if his presence was too much for him. The cowardliness of the gesture made her stop short, and she looked down at him, bewildered.

"You don't know what to say? Well, I don't know, either. I honestly think there are no words for something so... so _hideous _as what you've done."

He flinched. Her words had not the sharpness of a knife but the full-on force of a cudgel.

"How could you do that, Ashley?" She shrieked now. "How could you go to that place and consort with those... those nasty, trashy things like some common scoundrel? How could you go to that Watling creature and have her greet you like some old guest and - "

"How come you were there?" He interrupted her, getting up again and turning his back to her.

"I was walking," she confessed immediately, surprised by his interruption. "It was such a beautiful night out and I thought – well, I wanted some piece and quiet. Some time all by myself. But then I lost track of where I was going, and suddenly I saw a man standing there in the darkness. And then I realized where I was and what that man was about to do. And I found it quite funny." She laughed mirthlessly. "But then I recognized you, and at first I wouldn't believe it. But I had to make sure. And so I went after you, and then – well, I overheard your conversation with that Watling creature. And when I heard your voice, I knew for sure that it was you and that you were about to enter that terrible house."

He nodded involuntarily. "It's true. I was there. I've … been there many times."

"But why?" She cried. "Why, Ashley?"

"Oh, Scarlett -" he turned around, an expression on his face that almost made her pity him. "I can't explain. You wouldn't understand. I haven't – I mean, it had been so long that I couldn't – oh, God."

Uncomprehending, she frowned. "Couldn't – what? Oh, Ashley, tell me why. Tell me why you did it although we promised each other - " She stopped, confused. They were entering dangerous waters now, and she immediately found proof in his eyes. He looked at her with shock and a strange glimmer of guilt, and she realized that he knew exactly what she meant.

"Promised, Scarlett?"

"When we promised to be faithful to each other, Ashley." She blurted out, not heeding the consequences. She had been longing to talk about this.

"My God," was his reply. "What a mess I've made of things. Oh Scarlett, I am a swine." He rested his golden head in his hands, but this time no pity was stirred in her breast. She waited for his next words. "You're right. I wanted you to promise me that because I couldn't bear the thought of your – of Rhett Butler touching you." He admitted openly, and although she had known this, she was still stunned by his bluntness. It was so unlike him. "I knew full well that you might very likely take it to heart. I should never have done that, Scarlett. It was wrong of me, and I apologize. It was my selfishness that made me do it... my selfish disdain for the feelings of others."

"You, selfish?" Scarlett asked.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I am selfish. I've been selfish, always. Especially when it comes to you. And for that, I cannot forgive myself."

She was touched by his apology, and, although aware of the fact they were getting off the actual subject, she couldn't help but think deeply about the meaning of his words. He was sorry for making her promise to be physically faithful to him. He wished he'd never done it. But that could only mean -

"Do you mean to say," she began, "that that promise – it meant nothing to you?" She finished, her voice too high to sound natural.

"Please -"

"No, no..." she went on. "Of course it didn't. Otherwise you'd never have gone to Belle's. Not if you really loved me."

At the word love, he flinched as if she'd beaten him, but he did not meet her eyes.

"Ashley, look at me."

He did. And as she looked into his eyes, those tranquil orbs in which she had drowned so many times, but which were now only pools of cloudy water to her, she asked the one question that weighed as heavily on her mind as a milestone.

"Do you love me?"

* * *

><p>His shoulders sank, it was a sight almost too miserable to be borne, but she couldn't make herself look away. Time stood still, it was eerily quiet in the room. Scarlett held her breath, waiting impatiently for his reply. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, and, in an attempt to urge him on, Scarlett took a step forward until she was very close to him. Still silent, he rose from the little stool and moved as far away from her as the room allowed, avoiding her pleading gaze.<p>

It was this gesture that spoke louder than any words.

With an incredulous laugh, Scarlett sank down upon the stool and let her shoulders slump, abandoning her ladylike pose without a second thought. She felt drained, defeated, her anger momentarily forgotten.

He did not love her.

He did not love her, had never loved her, and never would. It was a galling, a startling truth. A truth that broke her heart, why, of course it did – and yet... Oddly enough, it did not shock her as much as it should have. After all, this was Ashley. The man she'd coveted for years. Shouldn't she be crying now, weeping for the love she had lost, as she'd done last night? But she felt no need to cry. For some reason or other, it did not hurt _that_ much. She felt as if he wasn't worth her tears, did not deserve her pain. No, she registered, mildly surprised, accepting it the way a child would accept a gift, she wasn't going to cry.

She looked up at his slouched form, and said calmly, "I knew it. I knew it last night, when I saw you. But I wouldn't accept it until I heard it from you. But now I know. Yes – now I know." She repeated like a parrot. Ashley still wasn't looking at her.

"Why did you lead me on, Ashley, if you knew you didn't love me? Why did you make me believe we'd be together one day?"

At these words, his head snapped up.

"Oh, Scarlett, be fair. I never -"

"Yes you did. Time and time again you made me believe you cared something for me, and I was such a stupid fool I didn't realize you never meant a word. Oh Ashley, you should have known better. Don't you understand what I – what I sacrificed?"

As she said this, she knew it was true. She had sacrificed a lot for the sake of being faithful to Ashley. She had given up on her friendship and closeness with Rhett, things that were important to her, she suddenly realized. She remembered the long, cold nights in her lonely bed, shivering in the absence of Rhett's warmth. She'd missed the talking, his soothing voice. She'd missed him from the moment she'd banished him from her room. And it had all led to nothing. Ashley did not love her and had only made her promise in order to spite Rhett. With this new knowledge, her promise of chastity suddenly seemed utterly foolish.

She shook herself out of her reverie and noticed that he was looking at her with a weird expression in his eyes, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. But then he recovered himself and simply nodded, solemnly, resigned to her words.

"You're right, Scarlett, and I'm so sorry. Please accept my apology for all my past behavior. My treatment of you was ungentlemanly and I can only hope you'll be able to forgive me one day."

She simply shrugged. "I don't know yet. But it doesn't really matter now. You still haven't explained about Belle."

"Scarlett, how can I make you understand without offending your sensibilities? Believe me, you don't _want_ to know my reasons. They're too... primal and despicable. It would do you no good to hear them."

Primal, despicable... why, was he some kind of animal? She suddenly longed to be more eloquent, to understand hidden meanings and read in a person's eyes whatever they felt, like Rhett did. But maybe Ashley was right. Maybe it was better if she never learned what drove him to Belle's in the first place. Although she had already changed in the short span since the terrible discovery of Ashley's secret – even if only unconsciously – her most essential traits remained, and her propensity for ignorance did not desert her now. Yes, it was better to leave Ashley's reasons in the dark. She had enough on her mind already.

"Fine, then" she said with a wave of her hand. "But you don't deny that you're a … a regular at that woman's whorehouse?"

He flinched at her coarse language and she grinned almost wickedly. He'd had it coming to him.

"I can't deny it. I won't. But it's over now, anyway. I won't be going back."

After a brief moment of silence, Scarlett quipped, "And what brought about this noble change of mind?" with a sarcasm rather uncharacteristic of her.

He looked oddly at her, as if she reminded him of someone else for a fleeting moment, before he replied, slowly, "I've made a promise. And I know I must stop because if I keep going back, I'll lose my self-respect. What little is left of it, for that matter. And also... I wouldn't be able to... to look Melly in the eye anymore." He averted his gaze and looked down at his hands.

Scarlett sighed heavily. They had avoided mentioning that name for the past agonizing twenty minutes, whether unconsciously or not, but now that Ashley had finally uttered it, Scarlett's heart constricted once more. Melanie. What would she make of all this if she knew? Would she be angry, sad, hurt? Scarlett knew that Melanie, although quintessentially docile and loving, was capable of a fierce hatred more chilling than her own fiery passions. Would she hate them both, the unfaithful husband and the disloyal friend? Another of those surprising but strangely self-evident realizations hit Scarlett, and she grasped that she wouldn't be able to bear Melanie's contempt. Secondly, she felt absolutely no desire to see the other woman hurt and broken. In fact, the thought was too terrible to be borne. She did not know where this sudden sympathy towards Melanie came from and she could not place it, but it was there, and as she looked up at Ashley, she realized that he felt the same. His eyes were pleading with her to understand, and, above all, never to reveal his secret to Melanie.

And she saw something else in his eyes as well, something she had seen there before but never acknowledged.

It was love.

Love for the wife who was worth so much more than he could ever give. Love for the wife whom she, Scarlett, had hated and envied for no apparent reason for so many years. She suddenly felt a burning shame the likes of which she'd never known. But at the same time, this final, this ultimate truth was so deliberating it almost brought her to tears.

"You love her." She said matter-of-factly, with not a trace of jealousy.

"I do, Scarlett. I love her more than life itself."

She got up from the little chair, too much in turmoil to remain seated. "Good God, Ashley, you've been such a fool. Couldn't you see that she was worth a million of me? You should have known years ago that you loved her and not me."

He loved Melanie and it did not hurt, but the feeling of shame remained. She had tried to take Ashley away from her most loyal and trusted female friend and it seemed utterly malicious, utterly pointless to her now. Not only Ashley had been a fool.

"Oh Scarlett, don't torture me. You don't know what I've been through. I'll never go back to Belle's, believe me. I cannot bear the thought of betraying Melly any longer."

"Because you can't live without her." Scarlett stated.

He shook his head. "She is the only dream I ever had that lived and breathed and did not die in the face of reality."

"Dreams!" Scarlett thought, an old irritation stirring. "Always dreams with him! Never common sense!"

Out loud she said simply, "We do not deserve her, Ashley. Neither I nor you."

"Promise me," he appealed to her now, turning around to face her, "promise me never to tell her. I beg you, Scarlett. I know I'm in no place to ask anything of you, but this I must ask. Please do not tell her. She would not understand. And she would hate me for it, hate me so fiercely it would tear me apart. If I lose her, I'll – I'll go mad."

"Don't be a fool, Ashley. Of course I'll never tell her. Not for your sake," she hastened to add, "but for hers."

"Thank you, Scarlett. I appreciate it, I really do. You cannot imagine how much."

But she could imagine. He was driven by the same fear that drove her - the terrible, unfathomable fear of losing Melanie's support, her unwavering love, her infinite kindness. For the first time ever, Scarlett realized how much she, too, loved and needed Melanie, how much she valued her friendship. And she promised to herself, then and there, that Melanie would never learn of this entire ordeal. To keep it secret would be Scarlett and Ashley's cross, the burden they'd have to carry for the rest of their lives. But it was worth it.

"We'll never let her know, Ashley. You can count on me. I promise."

Another promise between them.

"Thank you again, Scarlett. And please, let me tell you again how sorry I am, truly. For everything."

She nodded, not sure what to do next. She wanted to be angry with him still, she wanted to hurl insults at him and berate him for everything he had done, to her and, much more importantly, to Melanie. But the need was not as keen as it had been upon her arrival. Somehow, the words exchanged and the truths revealed had washed away the depth of her emotions, the urgency of her motives. What did it all matter now? There was nothing left to say.

"I think I must go now." She stated, and before he could say anything in return, she fled. She hastened out of the building, climbed onto the buggy and whipped the horse, making it jump forward in surprise. They took off at a tearing speed, and Scarlett did not turn around once. She needed to get away, now, immediately. She couldn't stand another minute in Ashley's presence.

It was not until about a quarter of an hour later, when she was about to leave the woods, that she brought the buggy to a halt, panting and breathless. She rested her head in her hands and wept, wept bitter tears - not for the loss of Ashley's love but the time she had wasted, the friend she had betrayed, and the fool she'd made of herself.

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><p><strong>Here it is! Thoughts, comments, death threats? ;-)<br>**

**As you may have noticed, I borrowed heavily from Margaret Mitchell in this chapter. I own nothing!**


	6. Subjection - Part One

**_"We can't command our love, but we can our actions._**" **_Arthur Conan Doyle_**

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><p><strong>6. Subjection - Part One<strong>

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><p>Once she had fled, Ashley let out a deep sigh of both relief and regret.<p>

Running a hand through his soft golden hair, he closed his eyes for a moment and stood motionlessly in the middle of the small office, no sound in his ears but the steady beating of his own heart. The workers had called it a day, the saws were resting – an odd silence had fallen. Only the faint chirping of a lonely bird could be heard every now and then, but Ashley couldn't make up his mind which species it belonged to. He drank in the noiselessness around him, its tranquility soothing after the havoc Scarlett's words had wrought. He inhaled the air in the room, an aromatic wooden smell tinged with but a fleeting memory of _her s_cent. He finally opened his eyes and looked out of the window to his left, but Scarlett was no longer to be seen.

He was alone.

Wearily, Ashley sat back down on the little stool and rested his hands on his knees. He stared at the dust on the windowsill and then back outside at the dark forest trees, and, eventually, he allowed himself to think about what had just transpired.

It was over. Scarlett, for whatever reason, had taken a stroll last night, seen him at Belle Watling's and finally realized what she had refused to see for the past decade. She knew now that he did not love her, had never really loved her and never would, and to Ashley's immense surprise nothing had ever brought him greater relief. He felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders after an age of suffering, as if he could finally breathe freely. Too long had he been shrinking from this long overdue encounter. Too long had he been hiding in the shadows, bound to nostalgia and precious memories of the one who had all the passion for life that he lacked. Now he realized that if only he had done this years ago, he could have spared himself and her a great deal of time and energy. But he had been too much of a fool to see beyond his own desire and too much of a coward to tell her the truth, knowing that the revelation would ultimately destroy their misguided romance and probably their friendship, too. And he had feared that outcome, for apart from his obvious lust for her body he truly did appreciate her lively ways, her spirit and that unbreakable strength of hers, which he had needed in order to survive. He had always leaned on her, clung to her like a parasite to a host. For what had he ever given her other than heartbreak, dashed hopes and finally this, this ultimate disappointment? She was better off without him.

No, there was no need to regret what had happened. It was done now, and it was for the best. Yet a part of him mourned the loss of her, knowing that if he knew her at all, she would quickly recover from the shock and the pain and realize that she did not need him. She would soon forget what had made her love him in the first place, and soon – oh, all too soon! - she would despise herself for having wasted so much time on a man like him, who could never make her happy. And then, perhaps, she would finally be able to find true happiness in life, whether with Butler or not was not for him to say. All Ashley knew was that he had always stood in her way when it came to other men, and he deeply regretted the part he'd played in preventing her from pursuing true love. Just as he regretted having failed at showing Melanie just how much he loved her. As much as he had stood in Scarlett's way she had somehow stood in his, because his longing for her body, her beauty, her passion for living and her unbridled strength had always overshadowed the genuine love he felt for his wife. He had neglected Melanie, even is she herself never knew it - too kindly did she look upon those she loved and too naïve was she too realize that although they were indeed meant for each other, although she was indeed his soul-mate, it was Scarlett whom he had desired on the quiet. She also did not know that until last night, he had been secretly consorting with whores. God bless her.

He was thankful for her ignorance, and if the Butlers kept their word, Melanie would never learn of his betrayal. He could not undo the past, but he vowed that he would make it up to his wife. He would go home to her, renounce his wicked ways and be true to her, and he would _love_ her. Love her the way she deserved to be loved. A part of him would probably always desire Scarlett – he was but a man, after all, and she was temptation incarnate. But he would quench this thirst forever and avoid her as best he could, just as he would never enter a whorehouse again. It was the only way. In any case, Butler had told him he never wanted to see him at Belle Watling's again, and Ashley was almost glad. There were other bordellos, yes, but he was sure that Butler had connections. He would find out eventually and Ashley would never see the end of it. No, he would go back to his platonic marriage and he would bear this cross with dignity and pride because Melanie deserved his fidelity. She deserved that and so much more - she was a saint among mortal men. Even Butler had reminded him that he would keep Ashley's misdeeds a secret only for the sake of Mrs. Wilkes.

Butler. Ashley couldn't keep his thoughts from straying to the man. Strictly speaking, Ashley had failed to make good on his promise to that reprobate that he would tell Scarlett of his nightly exploits at Belle's. He knew that Butler had blackmailed him into it with the intention of making Scarlett realize that her golden hero was not that much of a gentleman after all. But, oddly enough, it seemed as if she had figured it out for herself before Ashley could even seek her out to inform her of his misdeeds and the fact that he did not love her. He had no idea how she had come to be outside Belle's last night, and he was indeed embarrassed and ashamed that she had witnessed his transgression. But it had happened that way and he was secretly glad that she had seen him on her nightly walk. Her coming here today and confronting him had spared him the humiliation of approaching her of his own accord and confessing it all. He didn't know if he would have been able to do it, although eventually he would have had to. Otherwise, Butler would have found some way or other to blacken his name and tarnish his reputation, although Ashley was sure that the man would never have approached Melanie directly. He respected her too much for that.

But what was Rhett going to do, now that Scarlett understood that he, Ashley, did not love her? Would he make one last effort to win his wife's heart after years of trying in vain to make her love him? Ashley was not a man whose rage was easily stirred, nor one who had the energy to hate others with a passion, as Scarlett did. But Butler was one of the few people whom he truly despised. He could not stand the man's snobbish arrogance, his dismissal of all things long-established, his vanity and presumptuous pride. True, he had saved Ashley's life – another attempt to prove to Scarlett that he was worthy of her? - but he would always be a bastard, a traitor and an outsider. In addition, Ashley had always thought that the famed blockade runner was somehow beneath Scarlett. He was coarse and obscene, often rude and even ungentlemanly in his bearing towards everyone except Melanie and small children, whom he seemed to like, doubtlessly for some mysterious reason of his own. Ashley had always resented the idea of such a vulgar man touching a woman like Scarlett while he himself could not. Naturally, it had pleased him to learn that the couple had begun to sleep in separate bedrooms, an incident that undoubtedly had something to do with his own words to Scarlett. He regretted that, too. Not for Butler's sake, but he had – again – used Scarlett back then. He had wanted her to remain unspoiled, safe from Butler's clutches, and so he had made her turn her own husband away by subtly insinuating how beautiful it would be to be physically faithful to each other. With the small but significant drawback that he had not stuck to that innocent promise and gone to Belle Watling's whorehouse instead.

He shook his head. Perhaps he really was no better than Butler. But at least he was not vulgar or arrogant, constantly belittling everyone and everything. He could not deny that he was probably no gentleman any more – his hideous actions, his betrayal of Melanie, and his ill treatment of Scarlett only proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He was not the man he used to be, full of decorum and

honor, the essential virtues of a man of good breeding. But he was yet a man who was willing to make up for his mistakes, and he did not know if Butler was equally willing to relent and give up some of his pride and resentment. For Ashley could sense that Butler, not matter how abominable he was, truly loved Scarlett with a passion and was desperate to make her love him, had been desperate for years for her to return his hidden feelings. What the man did not seem to grasp, though, for all his sharp intelligence, was that Scarlett would never understand how much he loved her if he did not show her. She had no knowledge of human nature and did not understand people's hearts, not even her own, which her foolhardy pursuit of him, Ashley, undeniably proved. Secondly, in spite of the callousness and sharpness she was capable of – character traits Ashley did sense in her but would always be reluctant to accept – she was still a woman of romantic whims and fiery vows, a woman to whom the passionless was the impossible, raised by a sentimental Irishman who had cherished the great, the essential things in life - land, love, loyalty. No matter how beautiful and smart Scarlett was, there would always be something charmingly rustic and simple about her and her perception of romance. _All or nothing. _Her heart was stirred by the notion of all-consuming love as easily as Tara's cotton fields were shaken by the rough winds of the Georgian fall.

She wanted the kind of love a man like himself could never give her but one like Butler certainly could, if he only tried. But the man would never win Scarlett's affections if he did not treat her with tenderness and showed her some of the love he seemed to be harboring in that black heart of his. And although Ashley hated him and probably always would, he could not deny that some part of him felt pity and understanding towards Butler. He did not know what it was like to desire the love of another person so much, but he did know what it felt like to walk through life with a feeling of incompleteness overshadowing your every action. And so, as he said there on his little stool in the quiet little office, Ashley could not help wishing that Butler would find a way to be kind to Scarlett, for she deserved kindness. He prayed inwardly that Butler would be there for her and give her the candid kind of love she wanted, something both of them had failed to do – Ashley because he'd never felt it in the first place, Butler because he was a coward and perhaps also because he'd had no choice – Ashley had stood in his way, too.

Ashley sighed again and got up from the stool, carelessly pushing it back with his leather boot. He gazed out the window at the darkening sky and wondered how he could ever make up for the past, for the sins he had committed so carelessly in the past months and years. How could he take back the pain he'd inflicted upon others without thinking twice? For a man who had always prided himself on his intellect and principles, he had acted like a brainless and heartless fool.

The lonely bird chirped once more. Suddenly, as if urged by that indistinct but pretty sound, Ashley felt like he needed to go home immediately and carry out his plans: _Be a loving husband. Spend more time with your wife and son. Forget about Scarlett and never offend with your body against Melanie again. As God is your witness. _Yes, why not start now? It was as good a time as any and he needed to start somewhere. Scarlett's heated accusations had opened his eyes, and for once in his life since the end of the war he felt not the need to look back and wallow in self-pity but to actually do something, to take matters into his own hands. He had not the power to change the world. He had not the power to change the South. His old life was gone and he would never cease to mourn its loss. But he still had the power to make small changes that would be to everyone's benefit. He still had the power to be selfless for once and make good on his promise to give Melanie what she deserved.

He who lacked the passion for living that drove others to excel, he who had squandered time and forfeited too many chances, he who had lost his honor in the process – he was willing to repent, to reconsider, to _redeem _himself.

Ashley Wilkes quickly grabbed his coat, gloves and hat and left the office, ready to call it a day and go home to his wife. He had never been more eager to return to the little house on Ivy Street.

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><p>When she came home, Rhett Butler held his breath. He knew it was her - he could sense her presence, knew her light step by heart.<p>

He was in the dining room, having sat down to dinner with the children only minutes ago. He was just trying to make Bonnie, who was sitting in his lap, stop pushing his food off of his plate, when he heard someone open and close the front door. Then there were Mammy's heavy footsteps as she rushed towards her lamb and her deep voice as she scolded her for something unintelligible. Scarlett's voice was faint and small whereas her daughter was not exactly quiet as she bounced up and down on her father's knee, and so Rhett could not hear much of what his wife was saying. However, when Bonnie mercifully shut up for a moment he did catch Scarlett's reply to Mammy's request that her lamb join the family for dinner.

"Oh, no, Mammy, not – not now," she replied rather shakily. "I'm not hungry."

Rhett could see Mammy's frown before his mind's eye. "Ma Lamb's gonna eat, 'specially after you's been buggy-ridin' all afternoon. If you don't, Ah's gonna -"

"Alright," Scarlett quickly relented, no doubt trying to cut short the conversation and make her escape. "Will you please bring something up to my room, then? Or let Pansy do it, Mammy. Your back - "

Clever Scarlett, trying to make Mammy order Pansy to do it in order to avoid the old servant and her knowing eyes for the remainder of the evening. But Mammy was not that easily put off.

"Ah's gonna bring it to you, Miz Scarlett. Don't you worry 'bout my back."

There was a short pause in which they probably glared at each other, as they always did when arguing about something until one of them would finally give in. This time, it seemed to be Scarlett. He heard the shuffling of her feet and her heavy dress as she started walking past Mammy.

Unsure what to do, Rhett grabbed the edge of the dining table and waited, hoping in spite of himself that she would turn left and step into the dining room in order to greet them. He was dying to know what was written on that face of hers. He needed to know what she'd been up to all day. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to humiliate himself before her and beg her to dine with them if she so obviously desired to be alone – as usual.

Before he could decide, he heard Mammy's voice again. There was a wary, almost disappointed undertone to it as she inquired calmly, "Aren't you gonna say hello to Captn' Butler and the chillun, Miz Scarlett?"

Another pause. Scarlett's voice was a mere whisper, it was a miracle that he could make out the words. "Mammy, I can't. Not now. I need – I need to go upstairs. Bring up the food if you insist, but take your time."

That did it. There was a note of sadness in her voice that disturbed him and stirred something inside him. The old, familiar urge to know what she felt, what she needed. She sounded hollow and weary, almost bewildered. He was reminded of their encounter in the morning, when he'd mocked her and her wooden-headed gentleman, and she'd blurted out so adamantly, "How dare you bring him up, now that – now when I've -", and then only a minute later when he'd asked her how she was feeling, and her smooth reply that so blatantly had been a lie, "I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

He got up from his chair and handed Bonnie over to Wade. "Watch your sister for a moment, Wade, will you?" he muttered absentmindedly, already half out the door, knowing he could trust his step-son with his little girl. For once, he ignored Bonnie's insistent protests at being parted from her daddy so abruptly.

He excited the room and stepped into the hall, quickly taking in the scene before him. Thankfully, Mammy had given in and left, probably for the kitchen. Scarlett had only ascended about a quarter of the staircase until now, her step wary and tired. He watched her slouched shoulders and did not know whether he wanted to shake them until she revealed all her secrets or sweep her up into his arms, carry her to safety and never let her go. It was always like this with Scarlett.

He opened his mouth to hurl an ironic _"Good evening, Mrs. Butler. I see you're unwilling to grace your loving family with your presence tonight?"_ at her, but reconsidered quickly. He was always doing this. Taunting and teasing her with cruel jests and less than friendly barbs even in situations like this when he realized that she was unwell. What was wrong with him? Had he not promised himself to be kind to her? He had no idea whether Ashley had already told her his dirty secret or not, but in any case, his mockery would avail to nothing right now. _Kindness,_ he repeated to himself, _kindness_.

And so, he said simply, "Hello, Scarlett."

She stopped dead in her tracks, her body tensing up the moment she heard his voice. He could see her hand on the banister quivering as she tried to calm herself. What was going on with her? She turned her face a little, its contours remaining hidden in the shadows. "Good evening, Rhett," she replied evenly enough, but he knew her voice inside out. All the little nuances, all the undertones; he could sense she was shaking inside and his curiosity was increasing with every passing second. What was troubling her?

She still had not turned around and so he took a few steps forward until he reached the staircase. He rested one hand on the banister, involuntarily mimicking her stance, and looked up at her.

"I take it you're not going to sit down with us?" His eyes were boring into her back, urging her to face him, but she didn't.

She shook her head. "It's – it's been a long day, Rhett, I'm sorry. I'd rather have dinner in my room. Make my apologies to the children, will you?"

He waited for a long moment, hoping she would say more. But she didn't. Discouraged, pained by her rejection and the fact that she would not even look at him, he let out a sigh. "As you wish," he consented. "Good night, Scarlett. I'll see you in the morning."

He was about to turn around when she beat him to it, why he did not know. It was only for a fleeting moment, as if she couldn't resist looking at him once before she went upstairs to her room, and she turned back around quickly when she realized he was still gazing at her. But it was enough.

He scanned her face within seconds and saw the pain and confusion in its lines. He saw her red-rimmed eyes, sore from crying, her slightly trembling lips. Without thinking, he swiftly made his way up to her and gently grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to face him. She twisted a little but did not protest, meeting his eyes with a forlorn look in hers.

"Scarlett," he breathed, trying desperately not to reveal too much of his feelings. Kindness was one thing, but he was not ready yet to let her know just how much her distress affected him. How much every little thing she did, said or felt affected him. But still he wanted to show her he could be the gentle, caring husband he'd always been too much of a coward to be. "Scarlett, what is it? Are you alright?"

"I'm – fine," she stammered after a while, avoiding his eyes.

"Are you sure?" He replied smoothly, his eyes boring into her, daring her to look up at him. What was she playing at? She was not fine and they both knew it. He would get this out of her eventually, this way or the other. So why prolong the inevitable?

A silence fell. When she still would not meet his eyes, he gently but firmly put a hand under her chin and made her look at him. "Don't lie to me, Scarlett," he replied, something dark and dangerous swinging in his velvety smooth voice all of a sudden. "I've told you before that I can take anything from you but a lie. You're not fine."

She gazed at him now, her eyes watery but defiant. He should have known she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," she remarked, pushing his hand away, but it didn't quite sound as cutting as usual. There was something in her green orbs that told him she wanted to talk about her distress, and he was beginning to sense what might have caused it... After all, who else but that wooden headed wimp of hers could have caused her such misery? But he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"I make it my business," he replied simply, neither mockery nor venom in his voice. She seemed to sense this, for her face softened a little and some of the tension seemed to be fading from her body. But still she wouldn't speak.

And so Rhett did something he would never have done at this point in their sham of a marriage, had it not been for his encounter with Wilkes last night and his conversation with Scarlett this morning. He raised his hand and put it back where it had been, right under her chin. Gently, hesitantly, he began to caress it, relishing the feel of her soft skin. When she did not push him away, he moved his hand up to her cheek and cupped it. Looking intently at her, he tried to convey with his eyes what he could not yet say with words: that she could trust him, always.

"What is it, honey? Can you not tell me?"

He saw her eyes widen at his use of the old endearment which had not crossed his lips for two years. God, but it felt good to call her that, to express a tiny bit of his love verbally and show affection with his words.

"I can't," Scarlett breathed eventually, her lips trembling. "You – you'd only laugh at me."

"Your ability to think the worst of me never ceases to amaze me, Scarlett," he quipped, but it was kindly meant. He moved his hand from her cheek to her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I promise I won't laugh at you. Remember - " He hesitated, unsure if this was wise. But he couldn't resist. "Remember the times when you'd tell me anything, without thinking twice?"

She nodded, the warmth of his words and the soothing caress of his black eyes slowly melting away her distrust.

Realizing that she was about to confess, he let go of her face and took a small step away from her to give her some space. "Tell me, Scarlett," he urged gently once more. "I want to help you."

She gave an almost self-deprecating little snort, surprising Rhett, and turned her face away as if unable to look him in the eye. "You've tried helping me before and I wouldn't listen. Even when you told me he'd never – that he doesn't understand me -" She cast tormented, watery eyes up at him.

"Oh Rhett," she breathed brokenly, lowering her head again in defeat, "you were right. Ashley, he – he doesn't love me."

He stared at her, his eyes boring into her alabaster skin. A cold shiver of anticipation ran down his spine. Could it really be? Had she really just said that? He kept looking at her, and when she finally turned her eyes up to him, he saw the truth in them.

_My God._

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><p><strong>To be continued...<strong> _  
><em>

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><p><em><strong>Dear readers, first of all let me thank you all for your support and encouragement! It means a lot. I apologize for the long intervals between updates, but I haven't had much time to write lately. Unfortunately (or fortunately? ha ha), ever so often real life takes precedence over writing fanfiction. However, if all goes well, "Rendition - Part Two" will be up soon.<br>**_

_**Another thing - judging from some of your previous comments, I can't help feeling that most of you are staunch Ashley-haters! ;-) I'm sorry to disappoint you, but, personally, I am NOT. I don't hate Ashley. On the contrary, I find his character rather interesting, and writing from his perspective comes naturally to me. I don't know why that is. I do despise him for being such a coward and for leading Scarlett on, but on the other hand I can relate to his dreamy ways, his propensity for nostalgia. He's a very, very intriguing character that allows for a lot of interpretation, which is great for any writer.  
><strong>_

**_Anyway, feel free to review and let me know what you think of Ashley, this chapter or my writing in general. I'm very open to constructive criticism. Thanks again and take care!_  
><strong>


	7. Subjection - Part Two

**_"What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning_**

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><p><strong>6. Subjection - Part Two<strong>

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><p>Rhett sucked in a sharp breath, unable to take his eyes off of her. He could feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest.<p>

What now? In spite of the fact that he had been waiting for years for her to realize that Wilkes didn't love her, that hers was but a fool's hope, he was still surprised by her words. The magnitude of what they implied was sinking in only slowly.

After his confrontation with Wilkes at Belle's the night before, he had been hoping for this to happen, of course. He had known that if Wilkes told her about his nightly exploits, Scarlett would simply_ have_ to realize that the man did not care for her. As a result, he had been eager for her to go to the mills and talk to Wilkes, knowing that the wimp had no choice but to confess his misdeeds if he wanted to save his reputation. Otherwise, as Rhett had assured him, he would suffer the consequences, one way or the other. It was the most pure and ingenious kind of blackmail, Rhett Butler at his manipulative best.

It only came as a surprise to him how very soon it had happened, and he was not exactly sure what to do or say next. He felt a heady joy and – dare he say it – a fierce hope burning inside of him, yet the cool voice of common sense warned him not to trust these feelings without caution. Too long had he been hiding his emotions from Scarlett, too long had he been careful around her, always keeping his guard up, to grovel at her feet now, begging her to understand, in the wake of this fresh realization, that _he _was the one for her, not Wilkes.

_No,_ the voice whispered, _do not act impulsively, it's always a mistake. _ Involuntarily, he took a step back as if to distance himself from her, sure that his eyes would give him away if she looked up at him now. But she did not, and he was secretly glad for the short respite. With an effort he smoothed the lines of his bemused face back into the blank mask he usually wore in her presence. Thinking quickly, he decided that it would be best to test the waters first and find out exactly how and when she had acquired this new knowledge. He felt like he was treading on thin ice and needed to be careful. But, at the same time, he felt the familiar urge to comfort her, to hold her close, for she looked sad and weary. But now was not the time. Not yet.

"Well," he said lightly but not unkindly, "this is quite the... err, surprise, I guess." He shoved his hands into his pockets and met her eyes when she looked up at him again, the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. His dark eyes were tranquil now, not reflecting his agitated thoughts but void of their usual mocking gleam. "What happened?"

She gazed sharply at him, but when her feline eyes found no trace of mockery in his, she seemed to relax, perhaps realizing that he had no teasing in mind for once but was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

"I went to the mills this afternoon," Scarlett began slowly. "To see him. To talk to him," she added shamelessly, as if not conversing with her husband but some curious bystander. And yet, Rhett thought oddly, was that not exactly what he had been for the last two years? A bystander, shutting himself away in a mental prison of jealousy and resentment.

"When was that?" he invited her to continue.

"Oh... well, I left the mills about an hour ago. I … tarried a little on my way home, I guess."

Judging from her red-rimmed eyes, Rhett assumed she had been crying her eyes out in the woods. To confess to such a weakness, even if only indirectly, was very unlike Scarlett, who was a woman of immense pride, and his heart was strangely stirred by compassion and understanding. But there was also a burning rage. She did not deserve having to weep because of that golden-haired weakling. Couldn't she see that?

"Go on." He prodded gently, carefully keeping his voice blank so that she would not realize how much it all meant to him. For now, it was better if she thought he was merely being kind, as he had been in the early days of their marriage, and not desperate for her to see that they belonged together.

"I thought –" Scarlett continued hesitantly, "I mean, I had to know if he... if he loved me. I just had to know."

Rhett frowned, his mind working quickly. So she had driven to the mills of her own volition in order to confront Wilkes? But that could only mean... It could only mean that she had already doubted whether the man loved her or not before she even went to him, that it had not been Ashley himself who had approached her first in order to make his confession. It could only mean that her own doubts had triggered the decision to go to the mills. Rhett remembered her weary and drawn face yesterday morning and couldn't help thinking that he was missing a crucial piece of information. Something else, something important, must have happened yesterday, there was no other explanation for Scarlett's words. What had made her doubt Ashley's feelings for her? Rhett was dying to know, and for a fleeting second he entertained the idea of grabbing her shoulders and shaking her until she let him in on her secret, whether by her will or not. But patience was the better option, and so he merely listened to her as she ran on.

"I paid off the teamsters and went inside to talk to him. I was so afraid of what he might say but at the same time I couldn't stay away." There was something feverish in her eyes at the memory. " I couldn't wait any longer."

"So it was you who confronted him?" Rhett threw in conversationally, carefully curbing his impatience.

She nodded.

"He did not seek you out to talk to you?"

It was her turn to frown, as if trying to figure out to what his questions tended, but then she simply shook her head. "No... He was in the office and I had not seem him since – well – I had not seen him for a while."

_Since when? What happened? _He wanted to ask, sensing that she was holding something back, probably that piece of information that would enable him to make sense of all of this.

"So you were the one who wanted to talk," he said instead.

"Yes. He talked to me about his birthday party and I pretended to be shocked that he already knew about Melly's plans. He went on and on about mindless things, and I made myself answer." She gave a little snort. "But all I could think of was how foolish I was being and how … how much of a coward and hypocrite he was."

A lesser man would have fallen over at that moment. Her golden knight, a coward and hypocrite? This sure was a first. But still he didn't understand the whole thing. Something must have taken place prior to that encounter at the mills, something that had shaken Scarlett's unwavering belief in Ashley and their mutually shared love, or she would never have confronted him so directly. This was interesting. Immensely interesting.

"What happened then?"

"He would not stop smiling at me as if nothing had happened and then – then he told me how _pretty _I was," she spat out, _she_, Lady Vanity, who usually bathed in compliments. But this particular one did not seem to have pleased her. In any other situation, he would have had a hard time trying not to laugh and ask her jokingly, _How fickle is woman? _But, given the present situation, it wasn't quite so funny.

"It was too much." She went on, and he concentrated on her face once more. "I - I couldn't take it anymore. I shouted at him because I wanted to know why – well, I needed to know some things. And from then on it all went wrong. He wouldn't look me in the eye but only ever talk of his lost honour and how much of a swine he was..."

Rhett heartily agreed with Wilke's assessment of his own character, and he was proud and pleased to see that Scarlett seemed to realize how cowardly and infinitely weak that man truly was. But at the same time he couldn't help thinking that she was keeping something from him, again. What "things" had she wanted to know? What was it that had driven her to the mills in the first place?

"I'd had enough," she continued roughly, clutching the banister of the grand staircase until the knuckles of her hand whitened, "and so just I asked him. I asked him if he – if he loved me, and he wouldn't say anything. He just turned away from me and said nothing. And then I knew it."

Rhett nodded slowly, but there was a burning flame in his eyes. "Knew that..."

Her head jerked upwards and she said loudly, heedless of any servants who might be close by, "That he didn't love me! That he never loved me in the first place and never will. He never cared for me and yet he made me believe that he did. It's Melly he really loves. It's always been her. And I was such a stupid fool I didn't know it."

His brows flew up in surprise. So this, too? The realization that it was Melanie who truly had Ashley's heart? But of course. Scarlett had probably asked the man if he loved his wife, and the idiot had finally found the courage to tell his almost lover the truth.

"Indeed?" He asked, unable _– unwilling - _to keep a slightly sardonic undertone from creeping into his voice. Her poor treatment of Melanie Wilkes had always annoyed him. That lady was the only truly good and unselfish person he had ever known in his life, a woman of great loyalty and integrity, whose gentle kindness might have softened some of Scarlett's sharp edges if she had only let her. But she had not, instead choosing to belittle and scorn the one female friend who had always supported her, loved her and never asked any questions.

Scarlett, sensing his sarcasm, curled her lips in indignation. "Yes, _indeed_," she hissed, her eyes suddenly even more fiery than before. "And you don't have to remind me how badly I've treated her, Rhett. I know that. I know what a fool I've been. I realized it today when I was driving home. She's always been so good to me and I never realized just how much I loved her. She's worth a million of me and if Ashley had any sense at all, he would have realized it years ago. Laugh at me all you want, but I know better now. I love Melly. I do. And I swear to God, I'll never hurt her again."

A daring promise, but there was no lie in her eyes. He was inclined to believer her. Scarlett was a straightforward person, prone to sudden realizations that could make an impact on her very life, and perhaps the encounter with Wilkes had been a turning point for her in more than one way. And maybe, just maybe... if she could learn to love Melanie, she could also learn to love _him. _

"I'm glad," he said honestly. "She loves you, Scarlett. She's always been there for you and I'm sure she always will be. There's not much, if anything, that would make her turn against you. I must say this is unexpected, but if you really appreciate her now, it's to your credit."

"I do, Rhett. I do appreciate her. I love her. And if I only could, I'd go back in time and do it all differently."

"Would you, I wonder?" He said offhandedly. He took a step closer to her, looking deeply into her eyes. "What else would you change if you could turn back time?" It was an odd question and he wasn't sure where it had come from. But for some reason it had to be asked.

She shrank back a little, her body pressing into the banister. "I don't know – many things, I guess. I – I wouldn't have run after Ashley the way I did. I wouldn't have wasted so much time."

Before the storm in her emerald eyes, Rhett held his breath. The magnitude of it all of this struck him once more. She knew that Ashley did not love her. Had never loved her. Would never do so. She truly and utterly grasped it. Rhett had always wanted this, exactly this - for her to see that Wilkes' love for her was as solid as quicksand, never a strong foundation upon which to build her dreams. Although it had taken her a long time, far too long, in fact, he was proud of her for finally realizing it and glad that she had told him. He longed to comfort her, take her in his arms and make her forget that wimp who could never have made her happy anyway.

But old habits die hard, and the dark, resentful part of him wanted to hurl at her, _I told you so, didn't I? Time and time again I tried to make you understand, but you wouldn't listen. Yes, you wasted time, and now does time waste you. Why couldn't you see that he didn't give a damn about you? Your body, yes. Your "passion for living", indeed. But your soul? Your mind? Never. Whereas I … I have always wanted you, all of you. I have loved you. And I love you still. _

She would have deserved it. She would have deserved his rage, his scolding. For a decade she had lusted after a man who did not love her, foolishly shutting out the one who truly cared. She had hurt his pride and his feelings more than any other person in his life had ever done before. And yet, knowing himself, he knew that it could all be mended. There was no permanent damage yet, nothing incurable. If only she gave him her love, he would be healed, completely. The door was wide open, now that she was free of Wilkes' hold on her.

For he sensed keenly that Scarlett had already begun to realize that her love for Ashley was gone, or at least that his betrayal did not hurt her as much as it should have. Sure, she was upset and disappointed – after all, who could dare slight Scarlett O'Hara and not tickle some kind of powerful emotion out of her? But she understood now that she had wasted time and that her foolish pursuit of Ashley had cost her many things. She was definitely headed in the right direction.

But it was not enough. He needed her. Her heart, her soul – her body. He could wait, but he couldn't wait forever. If he didn't win her love soon, he was not sure what would happen to him. And he didn't want to become even more bitter and alone, empty inside. It was not the way he envisioned his future. Bonnie was enough to sustain him – for now. But he was not just a father but a man, an adult who needed and craved adult companionship. Who craved _her._ She was his partner, his soulmate - even if she did not know it. And he was hers.

He had not realized that during his reverie, his face had changed in a way Scarlett had never seen before. When his eyes focused on her once more, he saw confusion and fear in her green eyes, as if she didn't know how to act around him, and he frowned. He began raising his hand to touch her arm, but she forestalled him by quickly climbing up another step. Out of reach – again. His hand dropped.

She turned her head awkwardly, and Rhett knew she was about to seek sanctuary in her room. Something had changed about her demeanour, a shift imperceptible to anyone but him. Whereas she had been suspicious but trusting before, she was now desperate to get away from him.

"I – thank you for listening, Rhett. I appreciate it, I really do. But I'm rather tired. Please make my apologies to the children, will you?"

He nodded mutely.

She seemed surprised by his silence, surprised and relieved. "I – all right then. I guess I'll see you in the morning." She forced a tiny smile to her lips and turned around to ascend the rest of the stairs.

Rhett watched her retreating form, still saying nothing. And then, suddenly, he did not know why, she looked back at him over her shoulder once more, her eyes immediately meeting his. And something snapped inside of him.

He could let her walk away and hide herself in her room, and nothing would change. He couldn't be sure that she would come to love him if he didn't do anything to make her see what she was missing. Perhaps they would be more kind to each other from now on, now that they had talked to each other like adults for once in their lives. Perhaps they wouldn't, quickly falling back into old patterns instead, strangers in a marriage.

She had reached the landing, and in that moment he made his choice. He would fight for her. He couldn't let her walk away, not now. He had too much to lose.

"Scarlett," he called out, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Swift as a panther, he dashed up the stairs and grabbed her arm, turning her around so that she faced him. He pushed her backwards until they stood in the shadows next to the wooden stair post upon which a giant chandelier had been placed, carving out its miserable existence amidst the garish décor of the house. Its candles had not yet been lit. He reached for Scarlett's chin and tilted her head backwards, looking deeply into troubled green eyes.

He knew he did not yet know everything he needed to know. He knew she was hiding something from him. He did not know if she would push him away. But he did not care.

"Scarlett," he whispered. "Don't go yet. Please."

He put his arms around her and lowered his head slowly, daring her to cry out in protest.

She didn't. She didn't break eye contact either. God, he loved those eyes. And for once, he wanted to get lost in them, without restraint. Without the shadow of Ashley Wilkes hovering over the two of them.

Without fear.

* * *

><p>Suddenly, she was in his arms, those powerful, muscle-heavy arms that could so easily have crushed her but were also capable of great tenderness, as she well remembered. He held her tight, his hands sneaking around her torso and settling upon her shoulder and the small of her back. She could feel his thighs pressing against her, his strong chest against her upper body, his breath on her skin.<p>

Dazed, bewildered, yet keenly aware of his magnetic presence, Scarlett looked curiously into his eyes. They were dark, dark like an abyss or the pitch-black night. There was something deep and dangerous in them, something raw and unbridled and frightening she had often seen but never quite grasped, and she did not grasp it now. Was it desire? Passion? Hope? She couldn't tell. But, oddly enough, it comforted her. For even though his gaze was smouldering, scaring her with its intensity, there was tenderness beneath the embers, ready to soothe her should she burn her hands. And in this moment she wanted nothing more than to get her finger's burnt, to kindle the fire until the flames devoured her.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing deliciously against his upper body. She felt him tense as he stared at her, surprised, perhaps, by her eager reaction. She could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, but she was too baffled by her own needs to ponder over it. He lowered his head, seemingly hesitant in spite of having followed her. But then, when she did not back away but held his gaze, his muscles relaxed in an instant. The danger in the depth of his eyes was suddenly mingled with something ardent that confused her, and for a fleeting moment she tried to understand, eager to unravel the mystery that was the man before her.

But then his lips descended upon hers, and all rational thought vanished from her mind.

_Ecstasy. _

_Need. _

_Surrender. _

She went limp like a ragdoll in his embrace, her senses reeling. They had not shared a kiss in what felt like an eternity, and those they had last shared had certainly been different. During their honeymoon and Scarlett's pregnancy, there had been kisses, yes – pleasant, exciting at times – but never like this. This was a kiss the likes of which he'd only ever given her twice. Back then at Rough and Ready, and when he had proposed. And like those two times before, she was thrilled in spite of herself, letting herself get carried away by those things only he could make her feel.

The touch of his lips swept through her like ice coursing in her veins, making her shiver involuntarily, only to settle as a warm pool in her belly. She felt strangely alive – vigorous, ecstatic - yet helpless in his arms. His lips held sway over her, pleasuring her in a most scandalous manner, and she remembered dimly that this was not proper, that she should push him away and demand an explanation for his indecent conduct. But that was the furthest thing from her mind. A deep and rich voice in her head urged her not to stop him but to get lost in his arms. She wanted this, and she couldn't have escaped even if she'd wanted to, so strong was her desire to be held by him. He was like a force of nature - a riptide pulling her under, a strong wind sweeping her along. And she gloried in it.

He flicked his tongue against her lips, inviting her to open her mouth, and she surrendered willingly. When their tongues touched she moaned into his mouth, hating herself for showing so much weakness, but she couldn't help it. She had not realized how much she had missed this. It felt amazing, and before Rhett's raw strength and passionate caress, the trouble and pain of the past twenty-four hours seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and this heady ecstasy.

She raked her hands through his thick black hair and pressed herself against him, needing to be closer still, and his arms closed even more tightly around her in response. He roamed his hands over her torso, his fingers digging into her with just the right amount of pressure. She could feel the heat of his skin even through her dress and it sent another shiver down her spine. Her heart was beating wildly; his kisses had always been her undoing. He was all _man - _his smell, the hardness of his muscular body, his rough hands.

They kissed passionately, there in the shadows, forgetting the world around them. Scarlett felt strength and life itself surge through her, a welcome and earthy feeling after the tension of the past hours. She responded with everything she had, drinking her fill.

After a while, a beautiful, exquisite while, Rhett broke the kiss and held her tightly in his arms, staring into her eyes. She stared back. She had no idea what was going on between them. She was scared and unsure what to do with this new desire to be close to him. But it was exciting, thrilling even. _He _was thrilling. He was danger and power incarnate, and the challenge he presented was too great a temptation for a woman like her to resist.

"Scarlett," Rhett whispered against her lips, gazing at her with glazed eyes. His breath was coming in short gasps, his heart still beating strongly, but it was a steadier rhythm now, strangely soothing.

After another minute or so, he kissed her again before his talented lips started wandering from her mouth to her jaw and down to her neck, pressing feather-light kisses on her sensitive skin. Scarlett arched her back, her head falling to the side to give him better access to her throat. She was losing control. Something, some kind of barrier she had erected long ago, was beginning to fall to pieces inside of her and she was sure that if this went on for much longer, she wouldn't be able to resist him if he wanted to take her to her bedroom. This confused her. She had never been one to crave that kind of intimacy. It had never been unpleasant with him, no – he had touched her gently and made her feel good. But she had never really craved his touch, initiated their lovemaking or openly welcomed his advances. She was not that kind of woman. She had done her duty, kept her side of the bargain - her body for his money. Indeed, sometimes she had enjoyed his caresses, the warmth of him and his mere presence. But never, never had she felt such a burning need before, such an overpowering desire to have him touch her and make her forget. She resented this power he now wielded over her, but she was unable to tear herself away from him. What did he want from her? What did she want from him? She couldn't let this happen, could she? She did not know. The only anchor in this land of confusion were his lips, demanding, tender, intoxicating, like a glass of premium brandy downed with one gulp. And she knew that Rhett, too, could cause a severe headache.

His right hand, which had been roaming her back until now, suddenly began to move up her waist until it reached her left breast. Scarlett gasped involuntarily, making him smile slightly. His reaction annoyed her but still she didn't pull away. She couldn't.

"Am I making you shiver, darling?" He whispered into her ear, sucking at the sensitive lobe. Scarlett could only whimper helplessly in response, making him laugh lightly. She clawed at his broad shoulders, desperate not to moan with pleasure. And on the landing, of all places? If anyone saw them... But God, she was so weak in his embrace. What was _happening_ to her?

His left hand holding her head in place, he slid the one cupping her breast down her side until it reached her hip. And then she gasped in shock as he reached behind her and squeezed her buttocks possessively. She wanted to shove him away, she wanted to scream bloody murder, but more than that she wanted him never to stop. His grip caused her nether regions to bump indecently against his upper thighs, and she let out another sound that could not possibly have escaped Scarlett O'Haras throat. This was downright sinful. Sinful... and marvellous.

He gave a chuckle and she felt it rumble through his chest. "Could Ashley do the same to you?" he drawled slowly, his hand giving her behind another squeeze.

She froze in his arms.

How_ dare_ he?

And suddenly it all came crashing down on her, the things she had been pushing away. Ashley's betrayal, his hideous actions. And now this. Rhett touching and treating her like a whore. Like one of the nasty creatures he consorted with, just like Ashley. If what the gossips said was true, he was even more of a whoremonger than Ashley had ever been. She remembered that he owned Belle Watling's house.

How in God's name had she managed to push these facts out of her mind for so long? Why on earth had she let him kiss her like that and manhandle her like she was one of his common whores, ever comfortable to his pleasure? Well, she would teach him. Another unwelcome memory suddenly came to her – how, years ago, she had been infuriated upon finding his initials,_ R.K.B., _embroidered on the handkerchief that Watling creature had wrapped her donation to the hospital in. How she had thrown the contaminated thing into the fire, fuming with rage. Right now, the same rage was coursing through her veins. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to kiss him, hard. She wanted to kill him.

"How _dare_ you?" She hissed, ripping herself out of his embrace and pushing him away with all the force she could muster. He stumbled backwards, eyes passion-glazed and confused as he looked at her.

"What -" he began, but she wouldn't have it, all passion, all willingness to surrender replaced by seething hate.

"How dare you bring him up now?" Her chest was heaving frantically. "You're no better than him, you low-down cad! You're consorting with those nasty wenches, too!" The ugly words left a vile taste in her mouth, but she was too angry to care. How could he? How could he kiss her with so much passion and then bring up Ashley again? And how could he pretend to be better than Ashley? Damn him. He was a swine.

She realized that he was looking intently at her, and met his gaze with her scorching one.

"So you know?" He asked quickly, grabbing her arm once more. She violently shoved him away, but he continued staring at her.

"Know what?" she hissed, curious in spite of herself, even in the bottomless depths of rage.

"You know what he's been doing at Belle's?" His eyes were bright and alert, as if her answer meant a great deal to him.

She stared back, trying to make sense of his words. What was he saying? That he … that he knew, too? But that couldn't be.

"I – yes," she finally managed to say, too baffled to manage an angry voice. "I know what he's done." Why was he looking at her like that, like... like he knew what she knew? Why the hell –

"How?" Rhett's urging voice interrupted her attempt at figuring out this mess. He seemed tense, agitated even. What was his game? "How did you find out?"

He moved as if to touch her again, but she only glared hotly at him and his hand dropped. But his gaze lingered on her, hard, demanding. Well, if he wanted to know so badly, she would tell him. She was beyond shame, couldn't care less what he might think of her if she told him.

"I _saw_ him," she blurted out. "I went for a walk last night, if you must know," she added, lifting her chin in defiance. "Somehow I lost my way and before I knew how, I was in front of that Watling creature's house. There was a man. I – I didn't know who he was. But then the moon came up and I could see a bit of his face. I – it was him. It was Ashley." The words came quickly, almost against her own volition. It had always been like this with Rhett.

"What did you do?" He wanted to know.

She gave a mirthless little laugh. "At first I refused to believe it. But then ... somehow, I decided to go after him. To make sure it was really him. I followed him and I listened as he talked to... to that Watling creature." Her mouth twisted angrily. "And then he went inside, and I dragged myself home. I was tired, so very tired." She finished lamely, a sigh escaping her lips.

"I see." Rhett said, shoving his hands deeply into his pocket.

Her head snapped up, and she remembered what she had been so desperate to figure out before.

"You do?" She asked angrily. "Why did you ask me if I knew, Rhett? Did you mean... I mean... " Suddenly, something dawned on her and she almost gasped.

"Do you mean to say that you knew... before I did? You knew he was a … a regular at Belle's?" Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears.

"Shh," Rhett intoned, his eyes scanning their surroundings. But she wouldn't have it.

"Tell me, Rhett. Tell me or I'll scream."

"Yes, I knew." He said bluntly. "But I had no idea up until last night – I give you my word. My word as a man of honour," he added with a wry smirk. "My finding out about it was, err – a coincidence, so to speak."

"A coincidence?" She balled her fists.

"Yes." He raised his dark brows and swiftly, cruelly, added, "I caught him in the act – well, not quite - I was a trifle too early. But I wouldn't want to offend your sensibilities with any more details. In any case, I caught him as good as_ in flagrante delicto_ – can you imagine my surprise, my dear? It sure was a sight to be seen. So much for the sacrosanctity of our little _gentleman."_ He spat the word like it was a curse whilst grinning deviously at her confused expression. Must he always use words that she did not understand? It made her feel stupid and inferior.

By now she was fuming with rage, only the fact that they were still within earshot of the servants keeping her from screaming out loud. They had probably heard everything anyway, but still. She wouldn't scream like a banshee. She wouldn't give Rhett the satisfaction.

"What did you – what did you do to him?" She spat out.

He laughed dismissively. "What do you think? Oh, don't worry. I didn't punch him. But I'm afraid I had to order him out of the establishment. He'll never go back there. I made sure of that."

"How?"

A long pause followed during which he simply looked at her, as if pondering how much she could take.

"I told him to tell you his dirty little secret or I would find a way to blacken his reputation."

She stared at him in shock. "Oh Mother of God," she breathed finally. "You - you _blackmailed _him?"

He shrugged carelessly. "What if I did?"

She sucked in a sharp breath at his audacity. "Why would you do that?"

"I have my reasons. You wouldn't understand."

"No, I wouldn't," she spat. "I most certainly wouldn't. Why do you hate him so much, Rhett? Why? If -" she searched for the right words, "if you had gone through with that, you would have hurt Melly, too."

"Oh, spare me your indignation, Scarlett." His eyes darkened visibly and she almost recoiled. "Until a few hours ago you would have rejoiced at seeing Miss Melly ruined and hurting. Or am I wrong?"

When she said nothing, he laughed jeeringly. She wanted to scratch his eyes out.

"I'm not saying that I would have gone through with it," he went on. "I have deep respect for Mrs. Wilkes. But I knew what I needed to do at that moment to make sure her husband would talk. I was convinced that he would go to you eventually and spit it all out. I still think he would have approached you at some point. He had no choice, after all. But I see now that you beat him to the punch. Never one to be bested, are you, my darling?"

"Oh," she breathed, having difficulty to breathe regularly. "Oh you – you cad!"

So he had run into Ashley at Belle's? Even she had to admit that it was ridiculous. But blackmail! Why? Why had he done it? What could he possibly have gained from it? Never analytical, she did not grasp that it had been an act born out of desperation, jealousy, and love. She only knew that he had played nasty tricks on her before, and she did not trust him.

She did not know why she cared so much, but it riled her up that he would treat Ashley in such a way, even going so far as to resort to blackmail. It upset her because of what could have happened to Melanie and Ashley if Rhett had gone through with his threat and tarnished Ashley's reputation for good. _With enough courage one can do without a reputation, _his smug words rang in her ears, and she thought her head would burst. Well, some people, like Melanie and Ashley, could _not_ do without a reputation. It was everything to them and just about everything they had left in a conquered land. That, and their honour. And although she, of all people, had good reasons to wish for Ashley to be exposed, ultimately she would not wish that fate on him.

Deep down inside her, she sensed the first stirrings of contempt she always felt for the weak, although part of her rebelled vehemently against the idea that Ashley, whom she had loved and idolized for so long, could be anything but smart and strong. But it was a fact that he had acted like a coward towards her for so many years. And if Rhett was saying the truth, Ashley was even more of a coward because he hadn't had enough gumption to confess his secret of his own volition. No, she had been the one to pry it out of him. Damn him, too.

"Well?" Rhett's voice tore her out of her reverie.

He looked at her with those infuriating eyebrows raised and she wondered what he was thinking. Why was he being so nasty? He had been so soothing, so ardent before. God, but she hated him. She did not want to look at him and she did not want to think about him. But her mind knew no mercy, and another unwelcome realization hit her forcefully. His treatment of Ashley also riled her up because – because to her, it implied that he had intended to get back at her in some way, to make her feel bad.

"You wanted him to tell me so that you could pay me back, didn't you?" She wanted to know. "You wanted me to see that you were right all along. Well, you got what you wanted, Rhett. I know now. I know how much time I've wasted on a man who never, ever loved me. Are you happy now?"

He shrugged and said nonchalantly, "Don't flatter yourself, Scarlett. Why should I set such great store on getting back at you? Why would I care if you love him or not? Did you not so rightly outline earlier on that I'm not averse to finding compensation for your... charms at Belle's?"

Her mouth gaped open. It was too much. How _dare _he speak to her in such a way? How could he say such things to her? Did he care so little that he would brag about his nasty conquests to her?

Seeing her shocked and hurt expression, something in his face changed and he looked almost guilty, as if he hadn't meant a word. But it was too late. A line had been crossed and there was no going back.

He took a step forward, as if to lay a hand on her arm, but she pushed him away. She felt cheap and betrayed, and the only way to deal with this pain and humiliation was to get back at _him_ somehow. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, even if she couldn't do it with words. And so, with the same passion with which she had kissed him before, she now raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face, the stinging sound startling them both. She did not care if the servants heard anything.

"Ah," he breathed, but there was a fire in his eyes. As if, in spite of it all, her outburst excited him. Instead of keeping his distance, he reached out again and took hold of the hand that had slapped him.

"Scarlett, listen, I -"

"Don't you touch me," she ripped her hand out of his grasp. "Don't you _ever_ touch me again. I'm not one of your whores, damn you!"

He swallowed visibly. "Darling, I didn't mean - "

"I'm not your darling!" She spat, taking a perverse pleasure in his stricken expression. "And don't you tell me you didn't mean it. It's all true and you are a varmint. Do you think I don't know that you own Belle Watling's house? Do you think I don't know that you spend most nights with her? I know you consort with that nasty wench!"

Something dark entered his eyes at her stinging insult, the guilty look gone immediately. "Stop it, Scarlett. You don't know what you're saying."

She let out a biting laugh. "Who are you to order me to be quiet, Rhett Butler? I'll do as I please and - "

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, a warning in his eyes. "No, you won't, damn you." His lips twitched. "You'll listen." He stared her down until her gaze finally wavered under his and she lowered her eyes, unable to look at him any longer.

"You're right, Scarlett. I'm not better than Ashley when it comes to my nightly pastimes. I've slept with whores. I've slept with hundreds of them." He smiled wickedly at her, causing her skin to crawl. She was trembling with anger at his vulgar outburst.

"I don't want to hear it -"

"You will listen," he interrupted. "It's true that I go to Belle's. Regularly. She's a kind woman and more of a companion than you've ever been. And yes, goddammit, I've been with her and dozens of her girls."

Her eyes flew to his swarthy face, wide and incredulous. Listening to his taunting words hurt more than she could have ever imagined. Why was he doing this? And _why_ did she care? Why did she _care_?

"Let me go, you brute," was all she managed to say, trying to sound indignant, but her voice was shaking. "I won't stand here and let you insult me."

"Insult you?" He raised one of his dark brows in that taunting manner that never failed to provoke her and let go of her wrist, instead grabbing her shoulders with his large hands. "I'm not insulting you, my dear. I'm telling you the truth. Belle is a gentle soul, both sweet and generous. Can you say the same for yourself?" When she did not answer, he sneered at her. "No, you can't. And yet... It's strange, really. Although you two are so different, I've always thought you had a lot in common. Both hard-headed business women, shrewd, successful – but she has a heart, Scarlett. And she's honest."

"Oh," she hissed through gritted teeth, beyond infuriated by the comparison. "You dare -"

But he didn't let her go on, smoothly overlooking her reaction. "Yes, I dare. As for my nightly whereabouts," he went on as nonchalantly as if they were talking about the weather or some other mundane topic, "you knew. You've always known, haven't you, my darling little wife? In some dark place of your heart, or whatever it is in that chest of yours that pumps blood through your veins. You've always known. Only you've been too much of a coward to admit it to yourself or ask me straight away. Why haven't you? I would have told you. I wouldn't have kept you in the dark."

She said nothing.

"You want to know why I do it?" He went on, an edge to his voice. He shook her shoulders. "You want to know why I go to Belle's and bed whores, Scarlett?"

Her lips trembling, she made an effort to come up with a cutting reply, but nothing came to mind. Instead, out of the blue, her frayed nerves finally gave way under the strain of the long day, and she started to cry, unable to keep the tears from flowing and her body from shuddering. Mortified, she lowered her head and focused on Rhett's polished black boots. His hands fell from her shoulders and, in spite of herself, she immediately regretted the loss of their warmth. She prayed inwardly that he would not mock her. If he did, she would die right on the spot. She couldn't stand it, not now, after he had kissed her and made her feel good, only to destroy it all by being so hateful and mean afterwards.

She heard him take a deep breath as if to say something and braced herself for a stinging remark that would finish her off, but it never came. Instead, to her infinite surprise, he raised his hands and gently cupped her face once more, his thumbs gently stroking her temples. She stared up at him, confused, hurt, tired. Tears ran down her face, and he gently traced the trail of one of them only to brush the tiny pearl away where it had settled on her chin, saving it from the plunge.

"Shhh," he murmured low. "Hush, my darling. Please, don't cry."

When her tears did not cease, he drew her close and his arms sneaked around her once more. For a fleeting moment she fought him, thinking she owed it to herself. He had humiliated her, insulted her. He had openly admitted that he was unfaithful to her. He had blackmailed Ashley and he had compared her to that Watling creature and found her, his wife, wanting. But somehow it didn't quite matter just now. She was too weary and exhausted to keep up her half-hearted protest, and so she gratefully rested her head against his chest. Breathing in his familiar smell, she let him hold her, listening to his velvety voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

"Don't cry, honey. It's all right. Everything's going to be all right, I promise. Shhh."

Even in her despair and fatigue, she marvelled at him. How could he go from ardent lover to cruel accuser to comforting friend? She did not know, she did not understand. She despised him for the things he had just said to her. But she needed him, too.

"Hold me, Rhett," she whispered, too confused and tired to care if she sounded weak. Even if he had hurt and upset her, he was the only one left to console her, the only steady thing in a fickle world.

"My darling," came his swift reply, and he pulled her even closer. His chest felt strong under her cheek, like a bulwark against the storm.

Leaning into him, she remembered that no place on earth ever felt safer than the circle of his arms. He could be so mean and nasty, but also so tender and soothing. She recalled the odd feeling of remorse and regret that had come over her at the mills upon realizing that she had sacrificed all of this for Ashley's sake – the comfort of Rhett's embrace, the tender touch of his hands. She remembered, too, how bitterly she had regretted her decision immediately after she'd told him she no longer desired his presence in her room. But what to make of it all, she did not know.

"Shh," he murmured again. "Don't cry, darling. I've got you."

_I've got you... _

His last words rang a bell, as if she'd heard them before. Where? When? She felt like she should know, like it was important to remember when he had told her this before. But her brain was too muddled. Suddenly she was tired, so very tired. All she wanted to do was rest her head on her pillow and sleep tight, leaving it all behind for a few blissful hours.

He seemed to sense her fatigue, as he always noticed everything, and patted her back gently, drawing lazy circles with his fingers every now and then. When she tried in vain to stifle a yawn against his chest, he drew away a little and smiled a mocking but somehow gentle smile.

"You're tired." He stated matter-of-factly.

Before she knew how, he had swept her up in his arms and was carrying her down the hall in the direction of her room. Scarlett did not protest, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his unyielding chest. The luxurious material of his tailored suit felt nice against her cheek, and he smelled of cologne, horses and tobacco – a comforting smell.

He halted in front of her door, as if unsure whether to open it or not. She could feel his muscles tense; there was something unspoken in the air. This was the room she'd banished him from, for the sake of her foolish promise to Ashley. He had not crossed that threshold for more than two years, yielding to her selfish and cruel demand to leave her alone. Scarlett was not quite sure where she stood with him – in fact, she had no idea whatsoever – but she did know that something had changed between them, even if only a little. And she did know that she was ashamed for banishing him from her room. She prayed inwardly that he wouldn't put her back on her feet and leave, and her fingers involuntarily curled in his neck. She looked up at him. He looked down at her, probably reading her thoughts as he usually did. For once, she did not care.

And then he looked straight ahead and reached for the doorknob.

The door flew open and he stepped over the threshold. His jaw tightened for a fleeting moment as his eyes scanned the room, and Scarlett almost expected a stinging remark about her banishing him from her "sanctuary", as he liked to call it, in an attempt to please a man who did not even love her. But he said nothing.

Instead, he walked over to the bed and put her down gently. He rested his hands on her waist, steadying her, and peered curiously into her eyes. An odd silence surrounded them.

She realized how close he was, and with difficulty she suppressed a tremble. Her arms were still around his neck, the heat of his body engulfing her. It was inviting, intoxicating even, and she felt the strange urge to kiss him once more, still shivering inwardly from the memory of his rough and ardent caresses.

But she was tired, too, so very tired. She did not think she could handle it now - neither his touch nor her own needs. She could not yet deal with what all of this might imply, and she was afraid of the possible consequences. No, now was not the time. Too potent was her desire for sleep, too great her longing to rest and postpone any kind of contemplation. And so she allowed her fatigue to pour over the embers of the burning desire Rhett had awoken in her on the landing, and her body went limp against his, all tension fading from her limbs.

He let out a breath that sounded almost disappointed to her, but she couldn't be sure. Her brain was too muffled.

"Rhett, I -" she began, feeling like she needed to explain herself, but he did not let her finish.

Wordlessly, he turned her around and began working on the buttons of her dress. She tensed in spite of her fatigue, fearing for a moment that he would not heed her silent plea to leave her alone. But there was no heat in his touch, she suddenly realized with a twinge of feminine disappointment. Was she wrong after all? Did he not want her? But no, he had definitely wanted her on the landing... Then why..._ Never mind, _she told herself. For the most part, she was relieved that he seemed to understand or was at least willing to comply with her wishes.

She stood still, waiting breathlessly for him to finish. It felt strange to let him touch her so intimately, even if he was only helping her undress. It was strangely... familiar. Comforting. And very, very disconcerting.

Eventually, her dress fell to the ground, and the corset followed soon after. Seemingly sensing Scarlett's unease, Rhett lifted the bed cover and made a gesture for her to crawl under it. Hurriedly, she complied, not bothering to look around for a nightgown and choosing to sleep in her undergarments instead. He let go of the coverlet and she drew it up to her chin in an attempt at modesty, suddenly terribly unsure of herself.

He gave her the tiniest of smirks, completely aware of her antics, and she frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, but for the life of her, she did not know what to say. She was unable to come up with anything. Instead, a yawn escaped her mouth, and she tiredly sank back into the pillows. Drowsily, she gazed up at him, half-expecting him to mock her. But, once again, she was in for a surprise.

He bent down and tucked her in gently, like one would a child. His touch was light, nothing now remaining of the passion he had met her with on the landing. His gentleness confused her, but then again, when had she ever understood anything about him? And she was too tired now to figure him out. But she was grateful.

"Thank you," she whispered, yawning again.

He smiled, his eyes perhaps a little more guarded than before, but still brimming with kindness.

"You're tired, Scarlett. Sleep. I'll let Mammy know you won't require dinner anymore." He gave a light laugh.

She smiled a little in return, but sleep was already claiming her, and soon her lids fell shut.

Tired... so tired.

Just before she drifted off, it was to her as if a hand lightly stroked her cheek and soft lips brushed her temple.

* * *

><p>That night the dream came to her again.<p>

_The wasteland, vast and endless. Ashley and her, standing on the edge of the abyss. The apathy in his eyes as he told her that there was no future for the two of them. _

_Her accident, the fear of death. _

_And then the stranger was there once more, pulling her to safety, his arms her salvation. _

"_I've got you." _

_She leaned into him, resting her tired head against his strong chest. He stroked her hair gently, as he had done last time, and whispered soothing words into her ear, his voice sounding strangely familiar. She breathed in his comforting scent, feeling safe and whole in his embrace. _

_And slowly it dawned on her that she knew this man, had found comfort in his arms many times before, and always would. He was strong, much stronger than Ashley. Yes, she knew him... didn't she? _

_She looked up at him and caught sight of his strong jawline, but just as he lowered his head to return her curious stare, the scene shifted, and she was torn out of his embrace and the wasteland itself. _

_She cried out in protest, cursing fate and the powers that were toying with her in such a careless manner, taking her away from her anonymous saviour and robbing her of the chance to learn his true identity. And yet, even as she was thrown into some white and shapeless void, somewhere in the land of sleep, she could recall his gentle touch, the soothing quality of his voice, whispering,"I've got you". _

_Would she ever find out who he was?_

* * *

><p>She did not return to the wasteland in the hours after that. Yet dreamless her sleep was not, for she longed to go back and see her saviour's face. She would even face Ashley again and bear his rejection and cowardice, only to be saved by that other man, the kind stranger.<p>

Ever since the end of her girlhood, those carefree days at Tara, she had longed to find someone who was stronger than her, someone with the power to soothe and support her, not the other way around. In her folly, she had persuaded herself that Ashley was that person. But he was not and had never been, and it was agitating and sad, but it did not hurt that much. Strange though it was, it hurt more to be parted from the stranger, who was both tender and strong. She realized dimly that if only she could find out who he was, she would be safe. Safe forever.

"_I've got you..." _

She would find out who he was eventually, she promised to herself. She would return to the wasteland at some time or another, and then she would look into his eyes and find the same strength and affection there she had felt in his every touch.

Yes, she would figure it out. But not tonight... No, not tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would be able to make more sense of all of this. Right now, she needed to sleep, sleep till the morning light.

She would think about it tomorrow.

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><p><em><strong>Author's note: Phew... looong chapter! Hope you don't mind. Thanks for all the positive feedback by the way. So glad you like this story. Anyway, I've changed the name of this chapter (both part one and part two, actually) - "Rendition" somehow didn't feel right any more. When I first started writing this story, my plan was to have each chapter name start with the letter "R" and end with "tion" - one of those fancy ideas that seem plausible in the beginning but then turn out to be unrealisable. So from now on it's going to be either R or S – humour me and consider it a play on the first names of our two favourite protagonists.<strong>_

_**I'll definitely not be able to post the next chapter before April since I've got tons of stuff to do for uni and I also have a couple of other things planned, which is why I won't bother to write much. Definitely want to wrap this whole thing up this year, though. So yeah, next chapter in April! Be well and thanks again. **_


	8. Suggestion

"_**Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose." - Lyndon B. Johnson**_

* * *

><p><strong>8. Suggestion<strong>

* * *

><p>She was woken once more by the sun's gentle rays, alerting her to the advanced hour of the day. Opening her eyes, she stared at the curtains she had forgotten to draw last night, then up at the bed's ceiling. She recalled the previous morning, when she had awoken in peace, for a moment blissfully unaware of what had transpired the night before in the streets of Atlanta. It was different this time.<p>

She remembered it all instantly. Ashley's betrayal. Their encounter at the mills and the death of her amorous hopes and vain ambitions. Her own shameful betrayal of Melanie. She had made such a mess of things, and now nothing would ever be the same again.

She felt adrift, like a buoy on the raging sea, and she was not used to the feeling. Those who thrive on control rarely manage to deal with uncertainty. There was no solid ground in her new world of confusion. The pillar of strength she had leaned against for so many years, Ashley's elusive yet precious love, had crumbled into dust before her eyes - and although she still mourned by its remnants, she realized she had no desire to re-erect it. Indeed, a faint trace of pain remained as she thought of her almost lover. But it was a dull ache, by far not as sharp as in those first terrible hours after her discovery of his betrayal. Far more palpable were the feelings of regret, shame and anger that overcame her whenever she recalled the time she had wasted on Ashley. He had never cared for her. Why, oh why had she been such a blind fool? In the face of this galling truth, whose bitterness we all must taste in view of our past mistakes, she wanted desperately to be able to turn back time and undo it all.

And yet...

Strangely enough, although she deeply regretted her own idiocy and hated Ashley for what he had done to her, her present situation did not feel completely wrong. Every path she had trod, through hardships, through war, had led to this road. Something told her she was on the brink of change, on the edge of making some kind of decision. She knew she could not go back, would never go back. The loss of Ashley's love, for the first time, allowed her to see more clearly and put things into perspective. She was not ready yet to make up her mind about what remained of her own feelings for the golden prince of her youth, but she knew the chase had never been worth it. And she no longer mourned the loss of him whom she had believed to be the one. Already the memory of his face was blurred, the formerly warm glow she had always conjured up when thinking of him now interspersed with something more dark and infinitely more dangerous that both frightened and fascinated her. Those rays of an ardent black sun were slowly burning away the emptiness in her heart, giving heat where cold should hold no sway.

"Rhett," his name escaped her lips involuntarily even as the memory of the night before came flooding back to her.

Out of the welter of hurt and anger and longing he had left her with, curiosity and bewilderment emerged to sit upon her shoulder like carrion crows. Where was he? And was he thinking about her? She did not know what to make of him, had no idea what was going on in his mind. She had never managed to read him, had never really tried in the first place. But now – now, she desperately wished to penetrate his mind, to know what he made of her and their encounter on the landing. She remembered in exquisite detail the way he had made her feel, there in the semi-darkness. So alive.

Oh, she knew she should despise him instead of wondering what he thought of her. After all, he had betrayed her. Many times. He was a regular at Belle Watling's and had not even tried to deny it, had even gloated that he had been with the nasty creature and her "girls". And whilst the knowledge that Ashley had consorted with whores now merely disappointed and baffled her, the thought of Rhett being with such women brought forth a sudden, sharp pain. For some reason unknown to her, she could not bear the idea of him touching another woman the way he had touched her the night before. It was revolting.

Still, no matter how fervently she tried, she could not bring herself to hate him completely for his actions, let alone forget him. Lying there in her bed, the sheets tangled around her feet, her mind swam in the memory of his embraces, his smell, the feeling of his lips upon hers. His dark, smoldering gaze. The way he had gently carried her to her room and tucked her in. His image was before her eyes every waking second, tormenting her. Why, oh why, did she suddenly feel this way about him? Why did she yearn for his presence although he had betrayed and insulted her? It didn't make sense. And yet, stronger than hatred, anger, and hurt pride was the new and potent feeling of longing he had kindled deep within her.

Deprived of the escape route Ashley's supposed love had presented her with for so many years, her heart and spirit now lay bare before Rhett, whose very self, unbeknownst to her, struck an answering chord deep in her soul. Ever had his earthy and passionate nature called out to her, daring her to explore who he truly was and find a perfect partner in the process. Ever had his wit provoked her, his zest for life inspired her, his body inflamed her. Ever and ever had her flesh and subconscious recognized in him a kindred spirit. But she had been enclosed behind walls too high to let him in, touched by a frost too cold to allow him to give her back the golden warmth of her glory days.

All this she did not realize. She only knew that she yearned for him although she should not, and it confused her. Confusion was a weakness. And she hated feeling weak.

Damn him. Damn him to hell. Why had he done it? Why had he kissed and humiliated and comforted her? How could one man be so many things at the same time; tender lover, jeering devil, soothing friend? And what, if anything, did he want from her now? Was he playing a joke on her? Was he merely toying with her for his own perverse pleasure? Paying her back for her stupid decision to banish him from her room? A thousand questions went in and out of her mind until she could not take it anymore.

Kicking away the sheets, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Squinting against the sun, she tried desperately to push Rhett to the furthest recesses of her mind. Was there nothing else she could think of? Nothing that could distract her? But when she tried to think of something or someone other than Rhett, her treacherous thoughts returned to the one other man who had treated her abominably, and she hated herself for it. She did not want to ponder over Ashley either, did not want to now whether or not last night he had been true to his vow to forsake _that establishment _and be faithful to Melanie -

_Melanie! _

Scarlett jumped to her feet, causing stars to dance before her eyes. She grabbed one of the bedposts for support.

She had totally forgotten about Melanie. Yesterday afternoon at the store, eager to drive to the mills and confront Ashley, she had hastily invited her sister-in-law to come over the next day and have lunch with her. She recalled her indignation at the thought of having to spend time with Melly, and still she dreaded her visit, although for completely different reasons.

They were going to discuss Melly's plans for Ashley's birthday party, which was set to take place tomorrow night. Scarlett groaned out loud at the prospect of having to talk about Ashley, his tastes and friends and manifold qualities, which Melanie never forgot to rave about, in the sober light of day, and after everything that had happened in the short span of time since her discovery of Ashley's secret. This was unusual in itself. But two days ago, she would gladly have listened to her sister-in-law's praise of her husband, even if it entailed having to put up with her unbearable modesty, her hesitant manner of speaking, the endless sighs and petty fears and timid gestures, only to get some information on Ashley's mood and whereabouts. She would have listened with rapt attention, trying to read between the lines if Ashley was finally tiring of Melanie, trying to figure out if he was thinking of her, Scarlett, and whether or not he was pining away for her just as she yearned for him.

But not anymore.

No longer did she crave to hear the formerly beloved name, or to imagine his golden hair and dreamy smile; no more did she desire to agonize over his thoughts, dreams, feelings. She realized that she needed distance, needed to sort out her mind and lick her wounds before she allowed herself to ponder Ashley and what the loss of his love meant for her own future. She did not know where exactly she stood with him, but she knew that her great dream of being with him one day had died in the face of reality. She knew he did not love her, but in her confusion she was still merely teetering on the brink of the realization that she did not love him either. At the moment, all she wanted was not to let it in, not to think of him, and so Melanie's impending onslaught of uxorial enthusiasm was most unwelcome.

But there was something else, far more important and indefinitely more dreadful than any discomfort she felt with regard to Ashley, that made her nervous about the upcoming encounter. For the first time since she had known her friend, she would face Melanie with the knowledge how much she, Scarlett, loved and needed her, how much she owed her – and how greatly she had wronged her. She was not sure she could sit opposite Melly and look into those innocent, loving eyes without dying of shame or breaking down in front of her, begging her to forgive and forget, which she knew Melanie would never do if she only learned of the depth of Scarlett's betrayal. After all, what friend could ever forgive such treachery? She remembered with shame her blind jealousy and unfounded hatred. For ten years she had chased after Melanie's husband and treated the woman herself with thinly veiled resentment whilst secretly wishing for her death, so that she, Scarlett, could take her place as Ashley's wife. It was beyond vicious. It was abominable.

Her shame was profound, not unlike but a thousand times more intense than the kind she had experienced upon Frank's death. In fact, her regret over what she had done to her friend was probably one of the deepest emotions she had experienced in her still relatively young life, and it was both frightening and relieving. Like a chastised child past the phase of weeping and spluttering, still panting for breath but resigned to its punishment, she accepted her guilt willingly and ruefully. She had done wrong, terribly wrong, and nothing on earth could assuage her self-loathing - not herself, not God, and certainly not Melanie. She had sinned, and eternal silence was her punishment, her cross. She would have to carry this cross for the rest of her life, for she had sworn never to hurt Melly again, and to this vow she would hold until the day she died. Even if the urge to unburden herself, to ask for forgiveness, would accompany her from this day forward, she knew she must never give in to it. It would deeply hurt Melanie to know that her dearest friend, her _sister, _was capable of such evil in both thought and deed. In addition, by owning up to it all, Scarlett would simultaneously incriminate Ashley, and that could never happen. Learning of Ashley's past transgressions - and be it only one kiss in the windswept orchard at Tara - would break Melanie's heart. No, it was not to be. Scarlett would have to curb the desire to spill forth her secrets – and Ashley's – just to make herself feel better by clearing her conscience. She would have to remain silent forever. For what she had done to her only female friend, she deserved to carry this burden. And it was a small price indeed if it ensured Melanie's peace of mind.

Some of her confidence and determination restored, Scarlett quickly rang for Pansy. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she gasped. It was a quarter past ten, and Melanie was due to arrive at 11 o'clock. She sashayed towards her closet and set about the task of choosing a dress. Rummaging through the frocks, she decided the dress did not have to be too costly or fancy, for this was the first time she wasn't attempting to outshine Melanie. It simply did not matter anymore. She knew she was more beautiful and alluring than her sister-in-law, and this knowledge was enough to appease her boundless vanity. Also, she knew that Melanie would find her pretty no matter what she wore, for she often complimented Scarlett's attire, which was balm to Scarlett's soul after some side comment or other from Rhett that she looked like the madam of a whorehouse or would not know what was tasteful if it were right in front of her eyes. God bless Melanie, indeed.

To her dismay, she noticed that she did not have that many simple gowns. Most of them sported flashy colors, ribbons, frills, feathers, long trails and low necklines. One of it, an extremely expensive azure blue silk dress she had begged Rhett to buy for her during their honeymoon in New Orleans, was even embroidered with semi-precious stones. She remembered his expression as he first laid eyes on it and then inquired after the price, mouth twitching, lips forming the most unreadable smile._"My dear," _he had said lightly,_ "I'm sure Empress Eugenie of France could not have made a better choice."_ At first, Scarlett had been pleased, for she had read somewhere that the Empress was a fashion icon and possessed the most elegant jewelry. But then, seeing the barely concealed laughter in Rhett's dark eyes, she had realized he was mocking her and scowled indignantly at him, snarling, _"Can you ever be serious?" _She had bought the dress out of spite but worn it only once during one of their outings in New Orleans. It was like one of those toys Gerald had been unable to deny her as a child – once she possessed it, it immediately lost its charm.

In the next few minutes, Scarlett tried not to think of Rhett's annoying smiles and mocking ways, but it proved to be difficult, since almost every second dress had been a gift from him. She had to hand it to him that he had always been generous with his money and rarely, if ever, denied her anything. And yet, as her hands brushed the exquisite material of her gowns, she couldn't help thinking that if he had been as generous with his affection as with his fortune, perhaps things might have been different between them. Scarlett marveled a little at this notion, but something she could not quite put her finger on had changed last night, and again she felt that strange longing, mingled with doubt, at the thought of him. She was as curious and eager to see him as the thought of their next encounter frightened her, and she needed more time to think. But she knew she had no time. If he was still at home, it was very likely that she would run into him soon. _Oh, Mother of God. What on earth am I going to say to him? _Her fingers caught hold of another silk dress, this one of an inky color, and she was suddenly reminded of Rhett's jet-black hair that had felt just as smooth beneath her fingers last night. She wanted to -

"Good mornin' Miz Scarlett, you rang for me," the door to her room opened abruptly and Pansy's voice caused Scarlett to whirl around. "You want me ter help yer dress, Miss?"

Scarlett, still caught in her reverie, did not answer immediately. She looked into Pansy's eyes and did not fail to see the thinly veiled curiosity in their black depths. Remembering that the servants hardly ever missed anything, she wondered if they'd all heard her heated argument with Rhett on the stairs and landing last night. The deep roots of her Catholic upbringing made her cringe at the thought of anyone having witnessed that infamous encounter. Her mother, to be sure, would turn in her grave if she knew of her eldest daughter's wanton behavior. And it had been Ellen, too, who had taught her that the master and mistress of the house must act as moral superiors and set a good example for the servants. She remembered, too, that she felt strangely connected to Rhett whenever she thought of last night; the memory was exquisite, something to be shared only between the two of them. That someone, probably several people, had spied on them in such an intimate moment did not feel quite right. Oh damn them all! They were no better than the Old Guard, who constantly condemned her for her unconventional actions and thoughts. In her irritation she failed to see that although there was curiosity in Pansy's eyes, there was no condemnation at all.

"Yes," Scarlett snapped, "help me dress. And I need you to fix my hair. Something simple will suffice."

Fed up with the servant already and equally fed up with rummaging through her clothes, she quickly grabbed a rather modest but pretty cream organdy dress with a peach-colored sash. Due to its unobtrusive style, Scarlettt hardly ever wore it, but if Pansy was surprised at her mistress's choice she did not let it show. With nimble fingers, she quickly laced Scarlett, helped her into the dress and tied the sash until it perfectly girded the tiny waist. She then arranged Scarlett's hair in a simple yet elegant up-do with a few tendrils loosely framing her face.

When Scarlett looked into the mirror a little later, she noticed with relief that she looked rather well, even if her eyes lacked their famous sparkle. She smiled hesitantly, trying to focus on the task at hand. Glancing at her clock she realized that Melly was due to arrive in less than ten minutes. She impatiently dismissed Pansy, who shot her one last curious look. When the door had fallen shut behind the servant, Scarlett positioned herself in front of the bedroom door, grabbing its handle.

The clock was ticking. She stood there, her hands clammy in spite of herself. For the life of her, she was no coward, but she could not bring herself to exit her room before the door bell assured her of Melanie's arrival. She could not risk running into _him _alone_._ Or could she? She did not know if she wanted to throw herself into his arms or run as far away from him as she could.

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. _

Five minutes until Melly's arrival – her sister-in-law was never late. Slowly, Scarlett pushed down the handle. Silent as a church mouse, she opened the door and peered into the hallway, heart beating wildly. There was no one there. She listened attentively, but no noise reached her ears except for the distant shuffle of heavy feet downstairs, probably Mammy's, and the faint chirping of a bird coming through an open window in the nursery, perhaps. There was no sign of the children anywhere - not the clatter of Wade's toys or Ella's whining voice, let alone Bonnie's pealing laughter.

No sign of Rhett.

She stepped into the hall, unsure whether to sigh with relief or give way to disappointment. Involuntarily, she took a few steps down the hall in the direction of his room, as if expecting – hoping – the door would swing open and reveal his powerful body, the sound of his panther-like footfalls filling her eardrum until he stood before her and smiled in that infuriating way. But he was not there. Where was he? Of course, she reminded herself, he was an early riser and had probably left the house hours ago, either to go about his business at the bank or spend time with the children. The latter was more likely, for they were nowhere to be heard. At least not within the confines of the house. Scarlett shivered a little at the idea that they might be somewhere in the garden outside, that perhaps Rhett was not far away at all and would come into the house any minute. But perhaps he really was nowhere near, and she was troubling herself for no reason.

But, if he was out, what had been his reasons for leaving in the first place? Was he as unsure about the whole situation as she was? But no, that could not be. He was always so sure of himself and everything. Had the children begged him to take them somewhere? Did he – terrible thought – did he not want to see her? She wrung her hands, her nails digging into her flesh. She could neither tear her eyes away from his door nor make herself stop thinking of him.

So lost was she in her contemplation that she did not at first hear Mammy's voice. Only when the old servant summoned her a second time did her head snap up and her hands fall to her sides.

"Miss Scarlett! Miss Melly's comin'. Come down, Miss Scarlett!"

Straightening her spine, Scarlett cast one last reluctant glance at Rhett's closed door before walking towards the landing. Curbing the desire to reminisce about what had taken place at this very spot last night, she rested her hands on the balustrade and looked down.

Mammy was standing by the door and holding her hands out to the delicate creature who had just finished walking up to the house.

"Miss Melly! Come in quick, Miss. You is gwine catch a cold."

"Oh but Mammy, Mammy," the young woman laughed, returning the old servant's affectionate smile while handing her her light cloak and bonnet. "It is quite warm outside."

Mammy muttered something under her breath, but Scarlett was not listening. Instead, she was drawn in by the presence of the visitor, who now raised her head and met Scarlett's searching gaze with her own dark eyes. What was it Rhett had said once about Melanie's eyes — some foolishness about them being like candles? Oh, yes. _Two good deeds in a naughty world. _

Yes, they were like candles, candles shielded from every wind.

Melanie had come.

* * *

><p>Melanie Wilkes was not a beautiful woman. Even in her new-found love for her sister-in-law, Scarlett could not help noticing it as she watched her being led into the hall by a cheerful Mammy.<p>

She was too frail, too childlike, and altogether too bland to entice a man, and not cunning enough to hide her plainness behind artful smiles and other coquetries. But, like many times before, Scarlett noticed her light movements, the nicely shaped mouth and those unworldly eyes which, as Melanie looked up, shone with what Scarlett now realized was not feigned affection or merely the desire to please, but genuine kindness. Part of her had superstitiously expected to find scorn and lust for vengeance in Melanie's eyes, but there was nothing but warmth and benevolence in her doe-eyed expression. And Scarlett, perhaps for the first time ever, looked into another human being's eyes and caught a glimpse of their soul – and she understood that although Melanie may not have been physically appealing, her innate goodness more than compensated for her lack of beauty.

"My dear," Melly said with a smile, quickly taking off her gloves and holding her small hands out to her. "It's so good to see you. We didn't have much time to talk yesterday."

Still somewhat awed, Scarlett took hold of her hands hesitantly. This was not lost on Melanie, who frowned slightly in return. But she said nothing, her gentle smile still in place.

"Yes, yes," Scarlett said finally, realizing that she was behaving foolishly. "And I'm sorry for that. But I had to – take care of something at the mills. I hope you understand."

"But of course I do, Scarlett," Melanie hastened to assure her, mistakenly attributing Scarlett's rueful expression to remorse over her hasty departure the day before. "As I said yesterday, your business is more important than my idle chatter!"

Scarlett gave a disbelieving little laugh, thinking that this woman really was too good to be true. "If you say so, Melly."

Melanie laughed too, but it was a somewhat bemused laugh. There was something in Scarlett's striking green eyes today she could not quite place.

"Ashley told me you ran into him yesterday," Melanie continued innocently. "You did not tell him anything about the party, did you, dear?" she added with a conspiratorial smile.

Scarlett trembled inwardly at the mention of Ashley's name, wondering what he had told his wife, but with an extreme effort she managed not to let her inner turmoil show. Thankfully, Melly had always been easily fooled by her poor acting. "Of course not, Melly. He has no idea of your plans."

"I had hoped as much. Oh, it's so exciting, Scarlett! Don't you agree? Just think how surprised he's going to be. And how happy to see all his dear friends! I hope … oh, I hope it will be one of the best parties Atlanta has ever seen!"

Scarlett forced a smile to her lips as she beheld the excited shimmer in her friend's eyes. "I'm sure it will be, Melly. I'm sure it will be." In secret, she thought that Ashley was a cad. Melanie's love for him was so pure and genuine, her trust in him so infinite, whereas he seemed to have even less respect for her than he had for her, Scarlett. After all, Melanie was his _wife_. The mother of his boy. But he had spit on her love and loyalty by consorting with women of ill repute. By God, no, he did not deserve her. She was too good for him.

"... but there's so much we need to discuss, dear. Almost everything is prepared, at least in part, but I need your opinion on some last minute details, Scarlett. I simply cannot do without your advice."

Melly bestowed on her a look of such trust and devotion that Scarlett almost recoiled, hating herself. She was no better than Ashley. How on earth had she spent years and years scorning this angel of a woman? How on earth had she and Ashley been able to live with themselves whilst paying no respect to the love of this saintly being? She fought with herself, unsure what to do or say next.

As she contemplated, her body tense with shame and self-loathing, she could feel Mammy's eyes on her, sensed the silent question in them, all the cunning perception and wisdom of her African race glimmering ominously in the old woman's omniscient gaze. Scarlett felt like she needed to whisk Melanie away for some moments of peace, so that she could compose herself before Mammy followed them to the porch with tea and other refreshments.

"Shall we go outside and sit on the porch, Melly?" She quickly linked her arm through her sister-in-law's, nodding shortly at Mammy before turning away and leading a somewhat bemused but resigned Melanie towards the back of the house.

* * *

><p>Once seated outside in two cozy chairs, Melanie commented on the beauty of the extensive garden stretching out before their eyes, smiling as she beheld the gently swaying trees and the arrays of flowers bathed in April's pleasant sunshine. Scarlett nodded and smiled absentmindedly, her eyes taking in her surroundings with a feeling of trepidation. She strained her ears but nothing was to be heard of the children or Rhett's booming voice. They were not there. She let out a sigh of relief.<p>

Eventually, Melanie's thoughts turned to the inevitable topic of the upcoming party, and Scarlett mentally prepared herself for the torrent of words that would surely wash over her now like a great wave she could not stop from overpowering everything in its wake.

"My dear," Melly gushed, "I don't rightly know where to start. You know I had planned to hang up those red garlands we bought together the other day in that little shop, remember? Well, up until yesterday I was determined to put them up, but now..."

"The cakes – oh, mercy! I fear my Black Forest cake went completely awry. And you know how much Ashley has loved that cake ever since his Grand Tour. For the life of me, I don't know how the Germans..."

So it went ever on, and tirelessly, with a patience unusual for her, Scarlett answered each question with as good a grace as she could muster, curbing her temper and hiding her disinterest, her smile never wavering until Melanie said something unexpected.

"Are you sure Ashley doesn't suspect anything, dear? I don't mean to imply you gave anything away, it's just... Yesterday evening, when he came home from the mills, he looked a little - well, not quite himself."

Scarlett frowned at that, unable to control her mien any longer. Not sure what to reply, she was relieved when Mammy chose that exact moment to arrive with some tea and light refreshments. Since she had not breakfasted before, Scarlett dug into the snacks eagerly, glad for the short respite she needed to come up with a good answer.

While she chewed on a small sandwich, she again felt Mammy's questioning eyes on her. This time, she shot the old servant a look of indignation while Melanie was pouring some tea for the both of them. Why on earth was Mammy looking at her like she had never seen her before? What was her design? The darkie busied herself arranging platters and complimenting Melanie, during which Scarlett stoically kept silent. She had no wish to let Mammy know more than what she perhaps already suspected, and so she averted her eyes until the darkie gave in and trotted off. Looking up at Melanie, Scarlett noticed that her sister-in-law was still looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"Oh," Scarlett said uncomfortably, remembering what Melly had wanted to know. "Oh no, I'm sure he suspects nothing – darling," she added for good measure. Such endearments did not come easily to her lips and whenever she chose to make use of one, it sounded peculiar even to her own ears. However, if Melanie thought it strange, she did not let it show - in fact, she seemed rather pleased with Scarlett's new-found lexicon, smiling gently in return whenever Scarlett addressed her in such a manner.

"I'm sure he was just tired after work." Scarlett went on. "You see, we had to - " she fumbled for words - "we had to discuss one of the new orders – a delivery of quite a large amount of lumber to a gentleman from out of town. It was all very taxing."

She hoped desperately that Melanie would buy this ill-conceived lie, all the while realizing that this was the very first time she had told an untruth for Ashley since their promise at the mills._ It's done now. I've lied for him. And I will have to do so for the rest of my life, even if only to protect Melly from the truth. _The lie left a vile taste in her mouth, but it couldn't be helped. She had had no choice but to lie. Her only hope was that Melanie would not mention this to Ashley, since of course there was no gentleman from out of town who had lately ordered a great deal of lumber, or, if she did mention it, that Ashley would be smart enough to jump on the wagon, so to speak.

"Of course, Scarlett," Melanie gave an apologetic little laugh even as her opposite inwardly sighed with relief, "I'm just a silly goose who is frightened her husband will uncover her plans. Of course he knows nothing; I've sworn everyone to secrecy!"

Scarlett, who of course knew that Ashley was aware of Melanie's plans since just about everyone in town had spoken of them to him, smiled genuinely at Melanie's naivety. Leaning over, she patted her hand and said gently, "Everything's going to be fine, Melly. Now tell me more about the food and the drinks. Is everything prepared? Can I help you in any way?"

Melanie's smile was almost disbelieving, and Scarlett cringed inwardly. Had she really not shown her friend the slightest kindness in the past ten years? But no, that could not be, or Melanie would not have been so loyal to her for so long. But, apparently, she had never paid her sister-in-law's needs, be it for attention or time or something else, much attention. This would change from now on, she swore to herself.

For half an hour or so they talked about some more aspects Melanie was unsure about, until she had finally exhausted herself of party-related topics to discuss.

"Oh but Scarlett, I'm going on and on about Ashley's birthday party and I've not inquired once after your dear family. Are the children well? Where are they, anyway?"

"They're out with... with Captain Butler," Scarlett said, a little surprised by the change of subject, and not knowing what else to answer. She could hardly tell Melanie that she wasn't sure at all where her husband and children were. Melly must not know that Scarlett had scarcely seen the children in the past eighty-four hours. As usual, she felt a momentary pang of guilt as she compared her scanty maternal instincts to her friend's. "And they're fine, Melly. Perfectly fine."

"I'm glad!" Melanie smiled enthusiastically. "They're such darling children, Scarlett. Wade is so smart and thoughtful – oh, he reminds me so much of Charlie." She cast her sister-in-law a sympathetic look, still foolishly believing that Scarlett had dearly loved her late brother. "And Ella, why, she's just darling. She just needs a little encouragement is all. And as for Bonnie – that girl is so beautiful and charming and so full of life. I dare say she's the spitting image of you, dear!"

"Thank you, Melly," Scarlett smiled, flattered by the compliment. She had always taken pride in Bonnie's beauty and spirit – not to mention her own.

"It's so kind of Captain Butler to spend so much time with the children," Melanie continued, laying a hand on Scarlett's. "I always knew he was a kind and thoughtful gentleman, but I must confess I never realized just how good he was until your Bonnie was born." She laughed merrily. "You know, sometimes people ask me why he loves her so much, but I always tell them they're fools. Why indeed! It's because she reminds him of you, of course!"

Scarlett eyes flew to Melanie's face.

She stared at her sister-in-law, dumbfounded. Melly could not be serious. Rhett loved Bonnie because the child reminded him of her, Scarlett? But if that was true, it would imply that... that Rhett loved – _her _as well.

Scarlett involuntarily shook her head. No. Rhett Butler love her! It was ridiculous. Impossible. A thought too absurd to even consider it for more than a second. No, it couldn't be. He always acted so coolly around her, treating her like some damned pet or a diversion for as long as it amused him, then going his way whenever he pleased. Rhett loved no one, except for the children, and Bonnie most of all creatures living, because... because...

She set down her cup with a loud clang, startling Melanie.

"Are you alright, dear?" Melanie asked worriedly, a frown adorning her heart-shaped brow. "Oh, say not I've said too much. Is it because of Charlie? Ah, Scarlett, I know it still gets to you when I speak of him, even after all these years. I'm such a fool! So selfish in my giddiness over Ashley's party. Oh, please, can you forgive me, darling? Please say you'll forgive me!"

Scarlett tried desperately to focus on her sister-in-law. Charlie? Charles Hamilton? How could Melanie even ask such a stupid question when Scarlett's entire mind was consumed by the idea that Rhett might love her? She nodded mutely at Melanie, who was still looking at her with a worried expression.

She was not altogether certain how she felt about the mere possibility that Rhett could be in love with her. But two days ago, she would have laughed out loud at the idea. She would blissfully have recalled her early desire to entrap him into loving her, so she could hold the whip over his insolent black head. The notion of tormenting him would have given her great satisfaction.

But it was different now, she noticed with some surprise. She had no wish to torment him, she only wanted answers. Did he really feel something for her? And if he did, why had he kept it hidden for so long? But perhaps – no, surely - Melanie was delirious. Rhett had never given her any sign that he loved her, had never treated her like a lover, except perhaps in those blissful days in New Orleans and during her pregnancy. Ever since Bonnie's birth, he had always been composed, distant, out of reach. And yet... yesterday he had been passionate, tender even. And she recalled dimly that once, on that godforsaken night at Rough and Ready, he had told her he loved her.

She was shaken out of her reverie when Melanie, peering over the banister, suddenly cried, "Oh, look, my dear! There's Captain Butler and the children!"

Scarlett's head whirled around, and she quickly scanned the scene. Indeed, there was Rhett and all three of the children, walking towards the great fountain in the middle of the vast lawn. They must have walked around the house or entered the garden from the other side of the property. She could faintly make out Ella's shrieks now as Wade laughingly chased after her, Bonnie's chirping voice as she bounced up and down next to her father, quite wobbly on her stout little legs, and Rhett's booming laughter that sent a shiver down Scarlett's spine.

They had reached the fountain, still unaware of the two women watching them. They were too far away for Scarlett to hear exactly what they were saying, but she tensely watched their playful interaction, her eyes resting on Rhett's broad back as he helped Bonnie balance on the rim of the fountain. Ella and Wade stood next to their stepfather, laughing and clapping their hands in approval.

Melanie laughed at the charming picture the four of them made, but Scarlett sat ramrod straight, not saying a word. She could not bring herself to tear her gaze away from Rhett, no matter how hard she tried. And then, all of a sudden, as if feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder and looked at her across the distance. The sun artfully outlined his aristocratically sharp profile, and Scarlett started, sucking in a sharp breath. She felt drawn to him in that moment, for once keenly aware of the sparks flying between them.

They stared at each other for a couple of moments until Rhett broke the gaze and said something to the children. They looked in the direction of the porch, and, seeing their mother and Aunt Melly, waved their small hands excitedly, shouting, "Mother! Aunt Melly!" Even Wade and Ella seemed undisturbed by the fact that their mother usually did not appreciate of overly boisterous greetings.

Bonnie, of course, squealed the loudest and demanded of them to come and join them. Scarlett merely waved once and managed a small smile, somewhat unnerved by the child's outburst, but Melanie raised herself from her chair and, resting one hand on the banister, waved back enthusiastically with the other, calling the children's names and telling them that she needed to discuss something important with their mother. She always spoke to all children in this manner, like they actually understood everything and needed to be treated like little adults.

Scarlett started when Rhett suddenly picked Bonnie up in his arms and turned towards Wade to rest one hand on his stepson's shoulders in a gesture of trust and reassurance, saying something she could not hear. She realized he was asking Wade to take care of Ella for a little while, which could only mean that he was about to join her and Melanie on the porch. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair tightly for what felt like the hundredth time today.

Rhett nodded at Wade and playfully pinched Ella's cheek before he started walking towards the veranda, a halfheartedly protesting Bonnie in his arms.

His powerful gait and physique struck Scarlett like a blow, and she could not help watching him as he strutted quickly across the lawn. He raised a hand at her and Melanie in greeting, then made for the steps that led from the green to the porch.

_No!_ Scarlett's mind suddenly screamed, her eyes darting around wildly. He was too close. She was not ready for this. She had to get away; she could not face Rhett, not here, not now, not when she had not seen him alone since the night before, not when she did not know what he felt for her and why on earth she gave a damn.

But there was no escape route, no chance at flight; already could she hear his tread coming ever closer, already could she feel the goosebumps on her skin. _Oh, Mother of God. _

And then he was there, only a few feet away from them - tall, impeccably dressed, inscrutable.

"Good day, ladies," his thick bass thundered across the porch.

His voice alone set her a-tremble.

* * *

><p>He sauntered leisurely towards them, his unfathomable eyes brushing Scarlett shortly as if he wasn't quite sure what kind of greeting she expected from him. But then, before she could say anything, he carefully bent down, Bonnie pressed securely against his chest, and brushed his lips against his wife's cheek, saying lightly, "Hello, darling."<p>

She almost jumped out of her chair, her eyes darting up to his inscrutable face. He noticed her discomfort and gave her a saucy smile, making her want to scowl at him. Only Melanie's presence held her back. He really was infuriating sometimes. Had he kissed her to make her uneasy, or just for Melanie's sake? Did he despise her, merely hiding his aversion behind that mask he always wore? Or could it really be true that he felt more for her than he'd let on in the years of their marriage?

"Hello," she finally murmured in return, too stunned and angry to come up with something more coherent, absentmindedly stroking Bonnie's cheek. Thankfully, the child had calmed down and was now dozing in her father's arms.

The slightest frown momentarily appeared on Rhett's brow and his eyes bored deeply into Scarlett's, but he said nothing, instead turning towards Melanie with a kind and open smile the likes of which he rarely, if ever, bestowed on Scarlett.

He bent over her hand, and, as usual, Melanie was intimidated by his physical power and overwhelming presence. But she quickly recovered when she noticed the respect and brotherly affection in his dark eyes that were always there when he looked at her. Scarlett, too, saw the reverence in his eyes, and to her immense surprise and anger she could not help feeling jealous, her lips forming a tight line. Melanie did not notice, but Rhett seemed to tense for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention fully back to the woman whose tiny hand he was holding in his own large one.

"Miss Melly, what a pleasant surprise. You look well."

Melanie blushed but returned his words with a warm smile of her own. "Thank you Captain Butler. I hope you are well, too?"

"I'm very well, thank you. A little tired perhaps after my outing with the children. We went for a walk around town and ended up in that new shop near Five Points, the one with the fine toys from the Continent. Do you happen to know it?"

Melanie's face brightened. "Oh yes, of course! Beau loves it there, too. But Captain Butler, it must have been quite the ruckus, what with Bonnie's and Ella's love of dolls and Wade's passion for books! I saw some very nice children's books there the other day. And the toys were wonderful indeed!"

Rhett laughed. "Quite the ruckus, I agree. But I found a way to calm them down. I dare say they set me back by a fair share of my hard-earned money."

Melanie went beet-red at the delicate topic of money, especially his money, and Rhett, somewhat amused but unwilling to unsettle her, quickly changed the subject. "And what have you ladies been discussing, I wonder?"

Melanie relaxed visibly. "Oh, we were just talking about Ashley's party tomorrow."

This made Rhett raise one of his dark brows, but Melanie seemed to take it for a sign of his interest. She went on, "Scarlett has given me so much good advice, I don't know how to thank her. Of course, darling," she turned towards Scarlett and lightly touched her hand once again, "you must come tomorrow and help me and India arrange everything. You will come, won't you, as promised?"

Scarlett, who had watched their interaction in silence, naturally had no desire at all to spend time at the Wilkes' house, and was even less inclined to interact with India, of all people. The thought alone of that woman's lashless, cold eyes staring accusingly at her was enough to stir her ire. She was about to decline when she was drawn in once more by Melly's pleading gaze and the hope and devotion in her expression. Oh, but she could not deny her this small favor, could not break her earlier promise, even more so because her only excuse was that she would feel uncomfortable in that house.

And so, she gently grabbed Melanie's hand and nodded her assent. "Of course I'll be there, Melly. I promise."

She heard Rhett suck in a sharp breath and quickly glanced at him through her lashes. He was watching her with that old look of his, like a cat would a mouse hole, eagerly taking in her kind and totally out-of-character treatment of her sister-in-law. Scarlett could not helping being attracted by that intense shimmer in his eyes, intrigued by his curiosity. But under her scrutiny he quickly composed himself, and before she could even blink his inscrutable mask was firmly back in place. Her face fell, and for once she did not bother to hide her disappointment. Again she wished she could penetrate his elusiveness and understand the workings of his mind. Why was he always treating Melanie with so much more kindness and respect than her? And was there really some truth to what Melanie had said, that he loved her? She needed to know! She dared not think about why, but it mattered. What was he thinking? Damn him. Damn him for never letting her in.

"Marvelous!" Melanie cried out happily. "Thank you, my dear."

Scarlett forced a smile to her lips, then turned her head away as if eager to take in the scenery before her and watch Wade and Ella play. She felt Rhett's eyes on her but refused to look at him.

Melanie, remembering her good manners, now turned her attention back to Scarlett's husband. "I do believe I'll see you at the reception, Captain Butler? You are not otherwise engaged, are you? You must not miss it." She added with a shy smile.

"I wouldn't miss that party for the world, Miss Melly." Rhett replied evenly.

Scarlett's jaw clenched. She did not turn around but she could imagine the benign smile on his face even as he lied smoothly to Melanie. She knew he was about as eager to go to that party as she was, although for different reasons. He had always hated Ashley, because... well, because they were so different, right? But something was not quite right with her reasoning, she figured.

Two days ago, she would have argued that Ashley was a gentleman and Rhett was not, and therefore Rhett could not stand being in his presence. She would have said to herself that Ashley was all that was good and noble, and Rhett was a cad. She still thought he was somewhat of a cad, but she no longer thought of Ashley as good and noble. And yesterday, it had been Rhett who had comforted her, who had made her feel alive. No, no, he wasn't a complete varmint... and he was frank about his sins, whereas Ashley was too much of a coward to admit to anyone but herself what he had done. And perhaps – sacrilegious thought – Rhett really was more honest than Ashley in some ways.

Her mouth forming a small 'o', she turned in her seat and looked up at him, incredulous green eyes staring into his. For once taken by surprise he met her gaze directly, but she was so stunned by her own thoughts she did not notice the carefully curbed eagerness in his dark orbs.

As Melanie and Rhett continued chatting idly about this and that, Rhett politely nodding his agreement every now and then, Scarlett tried to make sense of her own thoughts. She had never bothered much to think about Rhett's personality, writing him off as a cad and skunk whenever he did something to upset her, because dismissing him quickly was so much easier than trying to tackle the enigma he presented to her. Whenever she had compared him to Ashley, he had lost out to her golden prince because she had deemed him too coarse, taunting and mean. She had always been convinced he wasn't a gentleman, not fit to wipe Ashley's boots.

But now... In the face of Ashley's betrayal and cowardice, Rhett suddenly appeared to her in a different light. He was indeed no gentleman, but somehow he came out of this whole mess as more of a man than Ashley. She hated him for consorting with nasty creatures such as that Watling woman, but she could not help admiring him for his guts. Rhett always stood his ground and faced the consequences of his actions, something that could not be said for Ashley. Rhett was strong and confident and these traits called out to her in her state of confusion, fumbling as she was for solid ground in a slippery world. She longed to confide in him and draw strength from him, the kind of strength she now realized she had always looked for in Ashley, and never found.

"... don't you agree, Scarlett?" Melanie was looking at her expectantly.

Flustered, Scarlett looked up. "Sorry Melly, what was that?"

"I was just saying how nice it would be if I sent Beau over here for the remainder of the afternoon to play with the children. That is, if you don't mind, of course. You see, I'm afraid I have so much to do and I really have no time to play with him at all. But I don't mean to inconvenience you... "

"It's fine, Melly," Scarlett replied generously. "I'll send Pork with you after lunch to fetch Beau."

"How kind of you, darling. Thank you."

Rhett was still watching her closely, and Scarlett was beginning to grow even more uneasy. Why was he looking at her like that? The look on his face almost resembled the one Mammy had worn earlier.

Thankfully, said servant again proved she had a knack for good timing when she suddenly reappeared on the porch, Pansy in tow. Huffing and breathing hard, Mammy bobbed a curtsy. "Miss Scarlett, Miss Melly, Capt'n Butler. Lunch is ready in the dinin' room."

"Thank you, Mammy." Scarlett said. "We'll be right there. That is - "

She had not planned on sharing the meal with Rhett, or the children for that matter. She really did not feel like being in a room with three screeching children, but she almost hoped Rhett would agree to eat with them.

As if reading her thoughts, Melanie piped up, "Oh, will you and the children eat with us, Captain Butler? That would be lovely!"

Rhett's eyes swiftly went to Scarlett's face as if trying to figure out if she was opposed to dining with him, before he smiled at the inquirer herself. "I'm afraid the children have already had lunch, Miss Melly, and Bonnie needs to be put down for her nap. But I myself could do with something to eat."

Melanie smiled and so did Scarlett, in spite of herself. It did not go unnoticed by him. He gently pressed a kiss to Bonnie's smooth cheek before handing the child over to Pansy, who went back into the house to put her to sleep. Mammy, too, disappeared, leaving the unlikely triumvirate alone on the porch.

"Shall we go inside?" Rhett suggested. Suddenly mischievous, he held out his right hand like a page would, making Melanie laugh. "Ladies? After you."

Thinking that perhaps the couple would like a moment of privacy, Melanie quickly walked into the house, an amused smile still tugging at her lips.

Scarlett, not in the mood for jokes, attempted to follow her, but as she walked past Rhett, he too took a step forward, whether involuntarily or not she could not tell. Her hand brushed against his, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She started and quickly looked up at him. His eyes were dark, so very dark. Part of her wanted to pull away because his eyes alone consumed her, but she could not. Melanie was already out of sight. A clock was ticking somewhere.

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. _

Rhett brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. Slowly, her fingers curled around his. She half expected him to mock her or let out a laugh, but he did nothing of the kind. Fascinated, she observed as he raised her hand to his mouth and gently kissed it, his lips infinitely soft against her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath, then opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came forth. He stepped closer to her. She didn't protest. She yearned to feel his lips upon hers. She yearned for _him. _

He leaned down, his hand still holding hers. She leaned in, tilting her head upwards. A tension hung in the air; she could feel his breath on her skin.

Their lips were mere inches apart when Mammy called from the parlor.

"Miss Scarlett, Capt'n Butler! Miss Melly's waitin' for yer!"

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. _

The moment of secluded intimacy had passed. Rhett straightened himself, clearing his throat. Scarlett stepped away quickly. But, just as she turned to walk away, he lightly touched her shoulder, whispering into her ear, "Later."

Staring up at him, she nodded mutely, too stunned to say anything.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he held out his arm to her. She accepted it gingerly and let him lead her towards the dining room, wondering how on earth she should stand his proximity until she was safely sitting in her chair.


End file.
